


Relationships That Start Under Intense Circumstances

by seraphina_snape



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alpha Scott McCall, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, BAMF Allison Argent, BAMF Melissa McCall, BAMF Sheriff Stilinski, BAMF Stiles, Corporate Espionage, Derek is a soldier, F/M, First Time, Kira & Isaac & Malia & Lydia are only mentioned in passing, M/M, On the Run, Scott and Stiles are BFFs, Scott and Stiles are Brothers, Scott is a Good Friend, Secrets, Sheriff/Melissa & Allison/Scott are background pairings, The Hale Family still died in the fire, Very Implied, blink and you miss it implied, dub-con elements (see author's notes for details), sorry - Freeform, sort of, sort of implied Jennifer/Kali, unethical medical practices (non-graphic)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-10 12:23:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 59,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3290171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraphina_snape/pseuds/seraphina_snape
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where werewolves are a normal part of life and the Argents have turned from being hunters into leading one of the biggest pro-wolf organizations in the US, Stiles is the newly promoted assistant head of the Argent Weapons International R&D department. When he uncovers a conspiracy and finds evidence of an anti-werewolf movement that spreads into the highest positions at AWI, he knows he must do what he can to stop Kate and Gerard Argent from destroying what the rest of the Argents (and the rest of the world) have worked for so hard.</p><p>Things get a little complicated when Kate and Gerard turn the tables on Stiles and accuse him of treason and espionage. On the run and with killers on his tail to shut him up, Stiles has to find a way to stop the release of a dangerous product, prove his innocence and find a way to implicate Kate and Gerard in the conspiracy. With his dad, Scott and Allison in danger from Kate and Gerard, Stiles is incredibly grateful when he meets Derek Hale who promptly saves his life. But it soon becomes clear that Derek is hiding something that could be the undoing of Stiles and everything he's trying to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Relationships That Start Under Intense Circumstances

**Author's Note:**

> So many notes: 
> 
> 1\. Many thanks to my beta, [megamir](http://archiveofourown.org/users/megamir) ([megamir @ tumblr](http://megamir.tumblr.com/)), without whom this story wouldn't be what it is today. Thank you for finding the endless typos and the weird phrases, the plot holes and continuity errors. You're a star! ♥ - Any mistakes you can still find in here are solely my responsibility. 
> 
> 2\. The title is a reference to the movie Speed, but don't worry if you know how the quote ends - this one's gonna last. :p
> 
> 3\. A word of **warning** :  
> * Besides Kate's general creepiness and references to her seducing an underage Derek to gain access to his family, this story features a dub-con scene between Stiles and Derek. They both want to be intimate with each other, but the secrets they keep make the scene dub-con. Derek is convinced that Stiles would NOT consent if he knew the secret Derek is hiding. Stiles has already guessed the secret and is keeping quiet about it for his own reasons, while knowing that Derek probably has reservations about what they're doing.  
> * unethical medical practices are referred to in passing (non-graphic)  
> * there is violence but nothing worse than what you'd see on the show  
> (If there is anything else that you think I should warn for but didn't, let me know!)
> 
> 4\. I'm not a scientist. If you come across any scientific "facts", please be aware that they're cobbled together from internet research and my own imagination. 
> 
> 5\. There are several pop culture references. Speed, for one. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, The Princess Bride. Probably others that I can't remember or didn't even notice. I don't own any of them.
> 
> 6\. I also made a playlist (sort of like an unofficial soundtrack) of the songs I was listening to while writing. You can find it [here @ 8tracks](http://8tracks.com/seraphina_snape/relationships-that-start-under-intense-circumstances-playlist) for your listening pleasure!  
>    
> *
> 
>  
> 
> **A Word About The Art**
> 
>  
> 
> I had not one but two (♥) talented artists working on this story. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank them both for their time and effort put into the art, and for the finished pieces. Without you, this story would not be what is it. Thank you.
> 
> [sterekotp](http://sterekotp.livejournal.com/profile) (AKA [Winchesterek @ AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Winchesterek/pseuds/Winchesterek)) has been there from the start and made a front and back cover as well as a chapter divider and a super adorable icon! You can find his art [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3268298) \- I hope you take a moment to view his art and leave some kudos if you like it! 
> 
> Preview:  
> [](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3268298)  
>   
> *
> 
> My second artist is [Marple-Juice](http://marplejuice.livejournal.com/). Marple-Juice originally came on board to make the story into a downloadable pdf file. She didn't officially become my second artist until pretty late in the game when she offered to make a cover to go along with the pdf file. Marple-Juice ended up making not only the pdf file and the cover for it, but also a cover for the unofficial "soundtrack" (AKA the playlist I listened to while writing). You can find her art [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3442031) \- take a moment to check out her gorgeous art and make sure you leave some kudos!
> 
> Preview:  
> [](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3442031)  
>   
> 

**Relationships That Start Under Intense Circumstances**

Stiles opened the door and then smiled when Melissa pushed in ahead of his dad, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Congratulations, Stiles."

"Thanks, Melissa. I'm glad you could both get time off to come into the city." 

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, son," John said. He stepped into the apartment and Stiles closed the door behind him. "Twenty-eight and the assistant head of the department," he said, pulling Stiles into his arms. "I'm proud of you, kiddo. About the promotion and what you're doing with your life." 

When Stiles was about to pull back, John tightened his hold and whispered, "Your mom would be proud, too. So proud." 

Stiles smiled and hugged him back harder, and they both pretended there were no tears in anyone's eye when they let go. 

"Okay, let's find the others," Stiles said. 

"Good idea; I'm starving!"

"Don't get your hopes up," Stiles said with a smile. "It's lean meat and lots of vegetables." 

"Aw, Stiles, come on. You moved out ten years ago. How is it you're still managing my diet?" 

"He isn't," Melissa said, appearing in the doorway. "But I am." She pressed a quick kiss to her husband's cheek and then slung her arm around Stiles' neck and steered him towards the dining room. "Stiles and I just know that eating healthy pays off in the long run, don't we?" 

Stiles nodded. "We do indeed." He lowered his voice and leaned into Melissa's side. "Do we tell him about the chocolate pudding dessert now or do we let him suffer through the salad and vegetables first?" 

Melissa tilted her head to the side, thinking. "Let him suffer a little. Until after the salad at least." 

Stiles grinned. "I knew dad made the best decision of the decade when he married you." 

Melissa nodded. "I've always thought so, too."

"Hey," Scott said, coming up behind them. He put his arms around his mother and step-brother and pushed his way between them. "Why are you two whispering? Are you conspiring again?" He hip-checked Stiles. "I thought we agreed; no mom-stealing!"

"I'm not stealing, Scott, I'm sharing. You're not an only child anymore." 

Scott's grin widened impossibly. "You're right, I'm not."

John rolled his eyes as he took a seat at the table. "I swear, sometimes you two are happier that Melissa and I got married than Melissa and me." 

Stiles exchanged a quick look with Scott and saw his own thoughts reflected back at him. Their parents had officially made them brothers eight years ago and that's what Scott and Stiles had been calling each other gleefully for those eight years. There was no better best friend and brother than Scott and one thing Stiles was 100% sure of was that Scott thought the same. 

"Stiles! The oven timer is about to go off!" Allison yelled from the kitchen. 

"Don't touch anything!" Stiles yelled back, hurrying out of the room.

#

John looked around. Except for Stiles, everyone was finished with the main course. Stiles was still fighting with a handful of stubborn peas - he didn't like them mushy so he refused to do the logical thing and squish them with his fork so they wouldn't roll off again. Going by past experience, Stiles and his pea problem could go on for a while, so John made the decision to cut in. He took his dessert spoon, smiling slightly because there was chocolate pudding in his future, and clinked it against his mostly empty wine glass.

Scott looked up from where he was trying to scrape a dried on drop of gravy off the tablecloth and Allison and Melissa interrupted their conversation. Stiles gave up and used his fingers to keep the peas on his fork, sinking down in his seat when he realized that they'd all witness his impressive display of a grown man behaving like a five-year-old. 

John cleared his throat and clinked his spoon against the glass again. "I'd like to propose a toast!" 

"Oh my god, Dad, no!" Stiles moaned, letting his head hang down so he could look at his napkin-covered lap, hiding the flush creeping up his neck. 

"Oh my god, Stiles, yes!" John said, grinning. "Just be glad you convinced Allison and Scott to have this dinner here or I would have done this at a restaurant." 

Stiles made a choked off noise and looked up. "Why do you hate me, Dad? I already got a public speech out of this promotion at work, I don't need one at home." 

"Shush," John said. "We're all proud of you and we love you, Stiles. Let us have this." 

Melissa nodded and Scott leaned over and whispered something into Stiles' ear. Stiles relaxed a little and nodded reluctantly, and John sent Scott a grateful look. 

"When Stiles left to go to college ten years ago, he had a ten year plan - a clear and detailed plan of what he wanted to achieve and where he wanted to be. Well, it's ten years later and we're all sitting together again. Stiles stuck to his plan remarkably well - he got his degree in engineering, got a job at a great company and even managed to get a second degree in industrial design on the side. I am incredibly proud of what he's achieved - assistant head of R&D is nothing short of amazing. But I'm not just proud that he's successful in his job. I'm proud that you went into a field that will make life easier for a lot of people, a field that will make sure our soldiers are safer than they've ever been and that you're doing your bit to make the world a better place. You mother would be so proud of you." John paused, giving Stiles, who'd turned a bit bright-eyed at the mention of his mother, a chance to recover. "Of course, your mom would probably also wonder why you're still living in the same shoe box of an apartment and haven't started providing us with grandkids yet…" 

They all broke out in laughter as Stiles spluttered and gave him a betrayed look. "Excuse you? Why don't you ask the long-term couple at the table for grandkids? I'm not even dating anyone!"

"Yeah, well," Scott said, "you never go out. No wonder you're not dating - in between work and spending all of your free time with us, you don't have time for a relationship. But you won't ever seriously date someone if we keep feeding you and letting you crash on our couch when it's too late for you to drive home. Case in point: we're celebrating at home instead of going out."

"Maybe I just like cooking for my family," Stiles muttered stubbornly. 

"Scott does have a point, son," John pointed out. "If you don't put yourself out there, you'll never find someone. And you know, if Scott's right and you spend all your free time here, then how are Scott and Allison supposed to work on that grandkid?"

This time, Scott and Allison joined Stiles as he groaned and tried to make the earth swallow him up. 

"Okay," Scott said loudly, cutting through John and Melissa's laughter. "New rule: no more talk about grandchildren!"

"Sure, honey," Melissa agreed easily. 

John grinned. After ten years of marriage and a lot more years of friendship, he knew his wife and that glint in her eye. The truce would hold for the rest of the night, but then all bets were off. 

"But," Scott added, "I'm totally in favor of doing this at your place next time, Stiles."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Never gonna happen. My place is tiny compared to yours," he said, flicking his finger against Scott's ear. "You should know that, Scott. I distinctly remember you living there too before you moved in with someone prettier than me." 

"Don't be a hater," Allison said, sticking her tongue out at Stiles. "And he didn't just move in because of my pretty face." 

"That's true." Scott nodded. "She also has the better legs," he added sagely.

Stiles snorted, nearly choking on his drink. "Okay, that's it. I'm getting the dessert from the kitchen and I'm going to conveniently forget two bowls."

Stiles disappeared into the kitchen and they could hear him puttering around. 

"Hey," Scott yelled after him. "Your dad and my mom would be really upset if you forgot their dessert."

Sometimes John found it hard to believe that these kids were actual grown-ups nearing the big 3-0. 

"Clever one, Scotty," Stiles said, reappearing with a large tray. He put it down on the table and Allison reached over to help him distribute their desserts. 

"My overwhelming attractiveness set aside," Allison said, "unlike some people, I don't leave wet towels on the bathroom floor." She gave Stiles a pointed look. 

"Talk all you want, guys, but this isn't going to keep me away from your place. All it does is make me want to come over more because Allison is awesome and Scott, you're okay, too. I mean, if you have to be there." 

"Ha ha," Scott said. 

"Don't be mean, Stiles," Allison said, patting Scott's cheek. "I don't mind you being here, sweetie." 

"Thanks, Allison, that's exactly the ringing endorsement I was waiting for," he said dryly, but his cheek was twitching like it took all his strength to stay serious. 

John exchanged a fond but exasperated glance with Melissa at their antics and leaned back in his seat, smiling. Good food, good company - what more could a man want?

#

Derek fought his way through the throng of waiting soldiers, shoving at them until they made a hole and allowed him to slip through to his bunk. Mail day was always a circus, but after an engagement, the soldiers always seemed to be especially eager to receive a bit of news from home, something to connect them with their families and friends. Derek bent down and grabbed the metal frame of the bed, using the momentum to swing himself into the lower bunk as the sergeant called out names and handed out mail.

"Fitz, H. Fitz, M. Fuller. Germaine. Greason. Gwambe. Hale--"

Derek looked up, startled. Cora, the only person he'd left behind when he went to war, wasn't big on letter writing. She had her own life and they exchanged messages on birthdays and holidays, but they weren't close, hadn't been since the fire. Cora, at age 11, left to stay with an allied pack in South America, not returning until she started college in the States. 

Derek and his uncle Peter, his other remaining family, didn't talk much either, but for entirely different reasons. The last time Derek saw his uncle, Peter glared at him with angry red eyes - power stolen from Laura - before vanishing into the woods around Beacon Hills. Derek didn't hang around to wait for Peter to make contact. He returned to New York and joined the Army. When the authorities caught up to Peter, Derek was halfway across the world, serving his country.

The letter hit him square in the face, and Derek scrambled to catch it before it fell under the bed. It was clean enough, but he didn't need the indignity of crawling under the bed to go letter hunting after zoning out long enough to let himself get hit in the face. None of the other soldiers in the barracks were paying him any attention though. Most were busy with their own mail, and the others were busy pretending to be unaffected by their lack of mail. 

Derek turned the envelope, frowning at the printed address on the front. There was no return address, but it was postmarked Beacon City and dated a little over three weeks before. Using one claw to slice it open, Derek pulled out two pieces of paper. One was a handwritten note from Cora, the other a printed letter signed with 'Doctor Blake'. Derek started with the letter from the doctor, his frown deepening as he read the few short lines. Cora's note wasn't much longer, and Derek's frown turned into an expression of worry as he took in Cora's shaky handwriting. 

"Hey, Derek. I'm not sure what Doctor Blake is going to tell you, but I'm okay. I'm sick, yes, but I'm sure they'll figure it out soon and I'll be back on my feet by Christmas. Love, Cora." 

Derek turned back to the doctor's letter. It clearly stated that Cora was severely ill and that none of her doctors had any clue what the problem was. Doctor Blake's parting lines especially chilled Derek to the bone. "At this point I cannot guarantee that your sister will make a full recovery or, in fact, any kind of recovery. If you are at all in a position to make a visit to the intensive care unit at Beacon City University Hospital, you should come sooner rather than later. I regret not to have better news," blah blah blah. Between Doctor Blake's professionally blunt words and Cora's half-hearted reassurances, Derek felt his stomach clench. In a way, Cora was his last link to his family. They weren't pack - hadn't been since the fire - but they were brother and sister. Cora was his own flesh and blood and he loved her. He could still see six-year-old Cora, with her wild dark hair and her gap-toothed smile, demanding to be included in his and Laura's games. 

Abruptly, Derek got up and jogged past the line of beds towards the door. The letter clutched in his hand, Derek crossed the small square between the barracks and the mess and headed for the officer's quarters.

#

"Stiles!" Allison hurried along the corridor, the few workers in her way stepping aside to let the boss' granddaughter pass. Allison frowned at them and Stiles made a mental note to tell Scott to stock up on mint chocolate chip cookies - if Allison was spending the day at headquarters instead of being on field assignment, she was going to need the treat to cheer her up at the end of the day. Allison couldn't stand it when people treated her like she was better than the rest of the employees just because she was Gerard's granddaughter. Yes, she was going to take over the company one day. Yes, she had been groomed for the position since birth and yes, she was - technically - a superior to nearly all employees. But in reality Allison was mostly doing field tests and instruction tours where she explained to groups of unruly soldiers how to handle the fancy new weapons that AWI had developed for them.

Stiles was convinced that at least half of the employees were simply intimidated by Allison. Not without reason - Allison could be scary if she wanted to and she looked like a total badass, stalking down the hallway in her motorcycle boots. He hung around with Allison and Scott enough to know that they were both sunshine personified. Even when he was seriously cock-blocking them, they didn't get mean. How anyone could be scared of that, Stiles didn't know. 

"Hey, Ally. Did you want to grab lunch? Today's special is broccoli casserole," he added, raising his eyebrows. 

"Can't," Allison said. "I'm flying out to San Diego in two hours. I knew you'd forget - Scott did, too. But you two promised me last week you'd fix the garage door while I was gone. You have 48 hours, starting tonight." 

Stiles made a face. "I would have remembered." 

Allison snorted. "Yeah, when I called Scott to let him know I was on my way home and you two got caught playing video games instead of being grown-ups."

"Being a grown-up is overrated." 

Allison smiled. "I agree. But at least my job lets me shoot things and yours lets you build cool things and Scott's lets him coo at baby animals." 

"We won the cool job lottery, no doubt. And I'll go over tonight after work and we'll fix the garage door." 

"You know," Allison said, "if you'd just let me do it, it would have been done by now." 

"Look, Scott and I both acknowledge your superiority in many ways. I have no doubt that you can fix that garage door quicker than the two of us combined," Stiles said, completely sincere. "But - and this is the important part - Scott and I need to feel manly and useful every once in a while. Like, every three months, maybe? And the garage door is the perfect opportunity. We get to play with the toolbox. I'll borrow my dad's tool belt and pretend like I know what I'm doing. We'll get it done." They would, of course, inevitably fail, but when that happened, Stiles would call his dad and he'd fix it. The same thing had happened with the bathroom door handle in Stiles' apartment back when it was still Stiles-and-Scott's-apartment, and with the warped floorboards. 

"Fine." Allison sighed. "As long as I still _have_ a garage door when you're done." 

"You will," Stiles promised. He crossed his fingers behind his back though, just in case Allison came back and found a sheet of plastic in place of a garage door. 

"Allison! Here you are! Do you have a minute?" 

Allison and Stiles turned, seeing Gerard Argent, CEO and president of AWI, coming up behind them. They exchanged a quick look. Allison expression was that of most people caught by Gerard: like they'd rather be somewhere else but were doing their best not to let it show.

"Sure," she said with a smile. "What do you need?"

"Ah, Mr. Stilinski," Gerard said, reaching them. He smiled at Stiles. "Don't let me interrupt."

Stiles felt a shiver run up his spine. Something about Gerard’s politician-rivaling smile made him want to squirm and possibly take a shower. "That's fine, Mr. Argent. We were just finishing up."

"Yes, Stiles is about to head to lunch." Allison gave him a quick hug. "Don't forget the garage door." 

Stiles smiled. "I won't. Like I said, I'll stop by after work and Scott and I will fix it."

Stiles was about to say his goodbyes when Gerard put his hand on Stiles' shoulder. "How is it going? All settled in your new office?" 

"Yes, sir." Stiles nodded. "Thank you again for the opportunity, Mr. Argent." 

"Oh no," Gerard said. "That's all on you. Congratulations on your new position. You surprised us all when you started here and already had a whole portfolio of new designs. There was no doubt in my mind that we'd see you move up - and soon! I'm sure you'll continue to contribute much to the success of AWI and I'm looking forward to seeing what the next six years will bring." 

Stiles felt a little silly thanking Gerard again, especially since the man's smile looked absolutely pleasant and at the same time absolutely fake. But being promoted to assistant department head at twenty-eight was a great honor, and a bit of brown-nosing never hurt anyone. He said another round of thank yous and then bid them goodbye, leaving Allison to talk to her grandfather.

"It's eight days until the first shipment of the new rifles goes out. I'd like you to be at the press conference," Gerard said to Allison as Stiles rounded the corner. 

Stiles felt a pang of pride. Eight days, and his first major contribution to AWI and to the werewolf community at large would make its debut. He couldn't wait.

#

The first thing on Derek's agenda when he arrived in town was to get his Camaro out of storage. If he had to spend time in a city far too close to his old family home to be comfortable, then he'd at least be mobile and as independent as possible. This was the first time he'd been back since Christmas two years ago. He was unable to get leave the year before. By the time he was free to come visit, Cora was in the middle of her finals and an internship right afterward, so they'd decided to postpone the visit. Now Derek wished he'd gone. Maybe he could have picked up on whatever it was that was making Cora sick. Maybe he could have done something about it before it became bad enough that she'd been confined to a hospital bed for three weeks and counting.

Beacon City University Hospital was a lot bigger than Beacon Hills Memorial and, as the name implied, it was attached to the local university. A statue near the entrance honored Annabelle Argent as one of the first doctors to successfully treat feral werewolves. Derek gave it a wide berth and entered the hospital's main foyer alongside a harried looking older man and a pretty brunette in a dark pantsuit. She smiled at him and Derek smiled back, holding the door for her. 

The line at the information desk was short, but the woman in front of him asked question after question. When it was finally Derek's turn, he quickly found out Cora's room number and made his way up the stairs, preferring the slight work-out of jogging up seven flights of stairs to waiting at the elevators. 

The intensive care ward was quiet and not at all like the TV always made it out. No constantly beeping machinery, no frantic activity, no bustling nurses or doctors. Just a very quiet corridor with open doors along either wall. Derek's werewolf hearing picked up on more sounds than a human would, so he could hear slow heartbeats on the entire floor, with two or three going at a faster pace - those had to be the nurses. 

"Can I help you?" 

Derek turned, cursing himself for losing track of where he was while he was listening for his sister's heartbeat. Situational awareness saved lives - his own and other people's. His sergeant would be ashamed of him.

The nurse in front of him was short and younger than him, but her stance was confident and her heart was steady. Derek's nose told him she was a werewolf, too. 

"I'm Derek Hale; my sister Cora is here." 

"Hmm," the nurse said. "Room 714. It's the third last door on the right." She pointed down the long corridor. 

"Thanks." 

Cora's room was the exact mirror image of the one across the hall, and identical to every other room on this side of the corridor. At least that's what it looked like from the glimpses he'd had of the other rooms along the way. There were two beds in the room, separated by a curtain. Cora's bed was closer to the door. Judging by the heartbeat, the other occupant of the room was fast asleep. 

Cora was awake, but her eyes were closed and she didn't move when he stepped into the room.

"Cora?"

"Derek?" Cora said. Even her voice was weak, sounding like she didn't have enough breath to speak louder than just above a whisper. She turned her head and blinked. "You didn't have to come." 

"You're sick," Derek said. "Of course I came." 

"I'll be fine," Cora said. 

It was a lie, obviously so even if Cora's heartbeat didn't change. "Humor me," he said, hesitantly reaching out to touch Cora's hand, lying at her side on top of the blankets. 

"Okay." Cora blinked up at him. "The doctors don't know what's wrong. Doctor Blake says she's tried everything she can."

"Don't worry. I'm sure they'll figure it out."

"Yeah," Cora said, looking up at him through heavy eyelids. "But if they don't, Derek, I just wanted to say--"

"Hey," he interrupted, keeping his voice low and even, "I thought you'll be fine." 

Cora glared at him. Lying deathly pale in a hospital bed took something of the effect away, but it was still a full force Hale glare. Too bad that Derek didn't want to hear Cora's goodbyes. He didn't know what had reduced his loud and lively sister to a shadow of her former self, but there had to be something else the doctors could do. They didn't even know what she had yet. There had to be a treatment.

"I'll go and find your doctor, okay? See what else we can do." 

"Derek," Cora said. "They have no clues. There isn't--" Cora swallowed hard and then started coughing, her body shaking as she tried to clear her airways. Derek carefully helped her sit up a little and handed her the box of tissues when Cora sightlessly groped for it on the bedside table. Cora spat into the tissue, and Derek made a face at the black-colored mucus. 

Cora tossed the tissue into the wastebasket next to the bed. It was already half-filled with tissues. 

Derek still had his arms around Cora. She pulled back a little, but then changed her mind and sank against him. Derek caught her weight, surprised and maybe a little horrified at how light Cora was. She was barely more than skin and bones. 

"They don't know what's wrong," Cora said into his shirt. "They can't--if they don't figure it out soon, Derek…"

"I know," he said into her hair. "I know." He moved his arm a little until he could slip it into the back of Cora's hospital gown, touching her back. Cora sighed when Derek took on some of her pain, murmuring a thank you against his chest. 

"I'll go talk to your doctor," Derek repeated after a few minutes. Cora nodded and he helped her lie back down. "We'll figure it out." 

Derek stepped back, but Cora caught his hand. "Hey," she said. "Thanks for coming." 

Derek shrugged. "Where else would I be?" He pushed a strand of hair back behind Cora's ear and leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of her head like their mom used to do when they were sick or sad.

#

Doctor Blake, it turned out, was the brunette in the pantsuit that Derek had briefly met downstairs. Derek found her at the nurse's station. She smiled at him, but the intensity of the smile muted a little when he introduced himself and asked about Cora.

"Frankly, Mr. Hale, there isn't much else we can do. We've run all the standard tests and even a few non-standard tests that were thankfully covered by Cora's medical plan with AWI." 

Derek snorted. AWI. Argent Weapons International. The fact that his sister was going to school on an AWI scholarship, with AWI-provided housing, and was now being treated in an AWI-sponsored hospital was enough to make Derek see the ghosts of his past mistakes. If he was honest, AWI was the reason why he hardly ever returned to town and why his visits to Cora were usually short if he couldn't arrange for them to meet up somewhere else for a holiday together. 

Doctor Blake gave him a confused look. "Is something wrong?"

Derek took a deep breath. "No. Nothing's wrong. Just that my sister is apparently dying and nobody knows why." 

Doctor Blake flinched, and her heart rate ticked up a notch. 

Derek felt like the biggest tool on earth. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "That wasn't fair of me. I'm sure you're doing everything you can." 

"Yes," Doctor Blake said, her heart still beating faster than normal. "Like I was saying, we've exhausted every resource. There is no explanation for Cora's condition and I honestly don't know what else I can do."

"Aren't there any other tests? Any theories? Anything?" 

Doctor Blake hesitated. 

"What is it? You thought of something."

Doctor Blake shook her head. "It's not really--" She sighed. "There are a few more tests I could run and depending on how those test look, there is an experimental treatment. This isn't covered by Cora's insurance and I'm sorry to be so blunt, but the hospital won't perform any test or procedure unless someone is paying for it."

"I can figure something out," Derek said, but it sounded like a desperate lie even to his own ears. While he did have a relatively nice savings account he'd built up over the years, he wasn't rich by any stretch of the imagination. 

Doctor Blake gave him a sympathetic look. 

"I mean it," Derek said, his voice a little steadier. "If you give me a list of tests you need to perform and an estimate of how much it'll cost, I'll figure something out to pay for it." 

"All right," Doctor Blake said. "If you're sure."

"She's my sister," Derek said. It wasn't like he had any other choice.

#

Despite his earlier assurances that he and Scott would tackle the broken garage door that evening, Stiles was stuck at the office long after hours. In the frenzied countdown to the release of the mark IV, a lot of the minor projects hadn't gotten the attention they deserved, falling by the wayside in favor of the one big project that demanded everyone's time and effort. As the new assistant head of the department, however, Stiles was responsible for overall performance of the R&D department. Instead of spending his evening hanging with Scott under the pretense of doing home repairs, Stiles was pouring over progress reports and design schematics in need of approval. Falling behind in his first month on the new job simply wouldn't do.

The growling of Stiles' stomach became more insistent by the minute, but he still had five more reports on his desk, waiting to be read. Stiles sighed. If he went home now, those five reports would be buried under an influx of new paperwork within twenty-four hours and there was at least one report among the five that had some promising ideas for new designs. There was no guarantee he would get to it any time soon if he left now, though. 

_Vending machine dinner it is,_ Stiles thought. He logged out of his company account and switched off the monitor, blinking when the ghost of the schematics he'd been looking at was still visible for a few seconds. Maybe he needed a five-minute break on top of the snack. After all, he'd been staring at the computer screen for - Stiles checked his watch - two and a half extra hours by now. 

Stiles hit the light switch on his way out of his office. The main office space was dimly lit by emergency lighting, the bright green emergency exit signs along the walls making for excellent night lights. Stiles yawned and ran a hand over his face as he waited for the elevator, rubbing his eyes. The nearest vending machine was in the break room down the hall, but the one four floors down in accounting had the more substantial snacks. Chocolate and candy wouldn't do it - he'd need at least a bag of pretzels to stop his hunger distracting him from work.

When he came back fifteen minutes later, his pockets stuffed full with various snacks and carefully balancing a paper cup of coffee, Stiles immediately knew something was wrong. The lights were on even though he'd turned them off when he left his office. Standing in the doorway, he cast a suspicious eye around the room. 

His desk was in the same chaotic state it always was. Designs, paperwork and finished and half-finished prototypes covered every available surface. Stiles' method of working was to spread things out, making sure he could easily switch from one project to the next but never lose sight of everything else had had on his desk. The same piles of paperwork still sat on his desk, but now they were a little more spread out. 

It could have been the cleaning staff, but none of them were cleared for the R&D floor unsupervised. For security reasons, nobody who didn't work on the floor could access it. The risk of sensitive information or - worst case scenario - design plans getting released to their competitors was too high to leave the R&D floor open to anyone. A card reader in the elevator made sure the doors only opened on the R&D floor if someone with the right clearance swiped his or her card. 

It wasn't unusual for people on this floor to work late. A project deadline inching closer always inspired frantic activity: last minute checks, last minute tweaking and last minute fretting because all the scientists Stiles knew were perfectionists. The release deadline for the mark IV was coming up, but production started weeks ago. Stiles had expected to be alone on the R&D floor due to the post-project lull.

Frowning, Stiles glanced around the office once more, but he seemed to be alone. The only suspicious thing was the light in his office. Why would someone switch on the light in his office but not anywhere else on the floor? 

"Weird," Stiles muttered. He stepped into his office and around his desk, setting his coffee down carefully and out of the way of anything that wouldn't survive a potential spillage. 

"Okay, even weirder," Stiles muttered as he caught sight of his computer screen. Per company policy, he'd logged off before leaving his office. But it wasn't the log on screen with the AWI logo that greeted him. Someone else was logged in at his computer. 

Stiles hit the Windows key on his keyboard. The start menu popped up and Stiles frowned. The user name was RD_ADMIN. Only a limited number of people had R&D admin access to the system. Kate, as the head of the department, was one of them, and so was Stiles as the assistant head. The Argent family members all had special access passwords, but Stiles wasn't sure if they had access to the specific R&D admin password. Besides which, Stiles had a hard time picturing Gerard Argent logging in at a random R&D computer at 9pm on a Tuesday. The IT people surely had the passwords on file somewhere, but they wouldn't need to leave their own floor to access any other computer in the building. 

That only left Matt Daehler, Kate's personal assistant and right hand man. 

Stiles hummed to himself, hand hovering over the log off button. Matt was… creepy. There was no better word for it. Something about the guy rubbed Stiles the wrong way and he always felt uneasy if he had to talk to Matt. Stiles usually put it down to the fact that Matt wanted to have his hand in every single project, wanted to know about everything that was going on before he involved Kate, despite the fact that Matt's technical knowledge was practically nonexistent unless it was about photo cameras. Trying to explain a technical concept so he'd approve it or give it to Kate to approve was like trying to explain rocket science to a kindergarten kid. He listened, wide-eyed, and then turned around and focused on all the wrong information, making everyone's job harder. 

Why Matt insisted on screening Kate's inbox so militantly was anyone's guess. Stiles figured he was compensating for something, maybe his lack of a technical background. Maybe he had problems working for an assertive woman like Kate. Stiles knew the type. Outwardly progressive, but deeply insecure on the inside. Stiles snorted. His life included so many badass ladies - he and Allison were practically in-laws and he adored her; Scott's ex Kira and her hidden skills with a katana; his own ex Malia who could make anyone back off with a look and a flash of claws - that he couldn't imagine being scared of Kate just because she was a woman in a position of power. 

Kate, now that he thought about it, also made him uncomfortable on occasion. Not because she was his boss - that was never the problem. But Kate was creepy in the same way Matt was creepy. She rubbed him the wrong way, looking at him for a moment too long without speaking, making sure to lean over his desk to flash her cleavage or brush her chest against his arm. Stiles never knew if she was doing it on purpose. Some people were naturally and unconsciously flirty, but he didn't know Kate well enough to know if she was a natural flirt and it didn't feel right to ask Allison about it. So Stiles ignored it and pretended to be oblivious to anything that wasn't strictly work. The tactic seemed to work, too, because Kate never _said_ anything, never even hinted that she thought there was more to their interactions than simple boss-employee talks. 

Stiles shook himself out of his thoughts. There had to be a reason why someone would use his computer and a non-personal user ID. If someone was downloading porn onto his work computer after hours, Stiles needed to know about it. Whether it was Kate or Matt - he wouldn't find out who'd been on his computer by staring at the blank desktop. The start menu was still open and Stiles clicked to see the disk drives and other hardware components. There was a button on the left that allowed him to check recently opened folders and documents. 

The last opened file was a schematic - a technical drawing of the mark IV assault rifle AWI was releasing in a week. At first glance, it looked like the same schematic they'd worked on for years. The only thing that was off was the file name and the location - as far as Stiles knew, there was no "version g" of the schematic and Stiles hadn't even known there was a "special projects" hard drive up until a minute ago. Frowning, Stiles concentrated back on the file. The red "confidential/restricted access" logo in the top corner was the same and the outer design on the rifle was the one he'd helped design and develop. Stiles traced the lines of the design, clicking through the more detailed views on the next pages. Stiles didn't see it until he got to the last page, and when he did, his mouth dropped open in shock.

The drawings were identical to the final schematics, except for one detail in the center of the design where the new release mechanism sat. The difference was subtle - so subtle that he wouldn't have realized it if the mark IV assault rifle release mechanism wasn't his own original design. The design was off by only a few millimeters - more than enough, however, to create a fatal flaw. "Version g" wasn't airtight, the faulty measurements creating a tiny break in the alignment of the parts that would make it _seem_ airtight without any visible or measurable leakage, but that would leave the mark IV vulnerable. The pressure inside the cartridge chamber would wear on the weakness and eventually start leaking poison. The leak would be small, letting only minute traces of wolfsbane escape the chamber, but even minute traces of wolfsbane and mistletoe could be damaging. Considering the amount of time the average soldier spent carrying, holding and using his weapon - not to mention the time it would simply be nearby with the rest of his equipment - meant a constant exposure to toxins that would build up in the body and eventually cause severe pain and most likely death. 

Stiles opened his junk drawer. It was stuffed to the brim with useless crap. Unimportant mail he'd shoved in there to get it off his desk and out of his sight. Pens, some that worked and some that didn't. A pencil he'd dropped so many times that it broke off nearly instantly if he even thought of sharpening it. But buried under a blackened eraser stub, a handful of loose paper clips, some rubber bands and an unopened packet of post-its was the item he was looking for: a seldom-used USB flash drive. 

Stiles plugged it in almost automatically, downloading the faulty schematic and then, without even opening them, the rest of the recently opened documents and folders. One of the documents caught his eye - a memo titled "revised design" - and he opened it. His eyes widening, Stiles saw that the "version g" design was the one attached to the memo, with instructions to start the production immediately. 

His mouth dry, Stiles opened the email client and browsed the sent emails. The earliest one he could find that used the "version g" design was one of Matt's - it wasn't signed with a name, but the tone and the phrases used were typical of Matt. The email was a reply to the production foreman noting the difference in designs and asking for confirmation of the new plans. Nothing about Matt's email looked unusual at first glance, but reading between the lines Stiles could see vague threats and promises of a payout if everything ran smoothly. 

The download was only half complete, but Stiles added a bunch of emails to the task before reading on. He felt dread settle in his bones when he realized that the "version g" design was the one sent to the production sites. After the first few weeks, the words "version g" never came up again, but the wrong designs stayed. 

Stiles drew in a sharp breath. 

The production sites had used the wrong designs. Designs that had the potential to be fatal to werewolves with continued use. For a moment, blind panic overcame him. Mistakes happened. People mistook an 8 for a 3. People switched numbers by mistake and labeled the components with the wrong numbers. It happened all the time. If not for the emails and the fact that the wrong designs had only replaced the real ones after the testing phase had been completed, Stiles could have written it off as a mistake. But it wasn't a mistake - it was deliberate. 

Sabotage. 

Worse: a hate crime, since the rifle was for werewolf use and specifically designed to be werewolf-safe. Someone - Matt? - turned his werewolf-safe weapon into a weapon against werewolves. 

Stiles closed the email client and the folders, staring at the progress bar on his data download. Two more minutes, according to the computer, but the time jumped up and down, adding a minute here and subtracting thirty seconds there. 

Stiles ran a hand over his face. His was developing a headache, a sharp stabbing pain behind his right eye. His gaze fell on his coffee and he drained the cup in one go, feeling the lukewarm liquid slosh uncomfortably in his belly when he got up to toss the cup into the trash. One minute and twenty seconds left on the download. 

Stiles cursed under his breath. He had to call the police. And Allison - Allison would want to know. He should talk to Kate, too. Matt's metaphorical fingerprints were all over this - if Kate's assistant was dirty, then she needed to know about it. The board of directors would need to be informed, too. The produced rifles had to be recalled and destroyed before they were shipped out to the military institutions around the globe that would receive the first batch. 

Stiles opened the personnel databank and checked the R&D department. Logged in as admin, he could check attendance records. According to the logs, he, Matt and Kate were the only R&D employees still in the building. Stiles looked up, scanning the open plan space outside his office. Nothing but dark and empty cubicles. He closed the databank and impatiently tapped his fingers. 60 seconds remaining on the download. 

Somewhere on the floor, a door slammed shut. Stiles' head jerked up. Someone was coming, and there was a 50/50 chance it was Matt. Matt, who was involved in a case of industrial sabotage that bordered on a terrorist attack. Who knew what kind of connections the guy had? Technically, only AWI security guards were supposed to be armed inside the building, but Stiles knew that Allison carried a knife even inside the office and that her dad carried a gun everywhere he went. If they could come to the office armed, Stiles wasn't going to take any chances with Matt. 

Stiles jumped up and grabbed his backpack from under the desk. There were twenty seconds remaining on the download, but he couldn't wait. He undocked the USB drive and moved to slip it into his pocket. But his pockets were full of vending machine fare that crinkled when he moved, and he didn't want to risk losing the flash drive. He crammed it into the small pocket-inside-a-pocket of his jeans, hoping it wouldn't fall out.

Stiles ducked out of his office and into one of the conference rooms a few doors down. He didn't have time to close the door before Matt strode along the corridor, carrying a mug of coffee. Stiles inched towards the ajar door, peering out to see Matt disappear into his office. Stiles felt his fear momentarily replaced by anger. How dare Matt sit at _his_ desk and use _his_ computer for his nefarious schemes. Stiles would have liked nothing more than to march over into his office and demand an explanation, but he was smarter than that. He needed to inform Kate. They could call security from her desk and wait until they had Matt in custody.

#

Kate's office was down a long corridor, at the other end of the R&D floor. It was out of the way, giving her privacy and allowing Stiles to sneak away from Matt's presence without being seen. Passing the elevators, Stiles considered going down to the security office straight away. But he couldn't leave Kate on the same floor as Matt without letting her know what was going on.

Unlike most of the other offices and some of the conference rooms, Kate's office didn't have glass walls. But the light underneath the door let Stiles know she was in. He raised his hand to knock, then reconsidered. The floor was quiet and deserted. He didn't know how far the sound of the knock would travel. Stiles didn't want to alert Matt to the fact that his plot had been discovered at the last minute. He slowly put his hand on the door handle and froze. 

Stiles could hear voices from inside the office. One of them was Kate's. The other was a woman's voice, but it sounded flat and tinny. It took Stiles a moment to realize it came from the speaker of a phone. 

"--release is scheduled for the first of next month," Kate said. "That's in eight days, Doctor Blake. You can't tell me eight days before the project goes live that you're not sure about the dosage." 

Stiles didn't catch the response, it sounded too far away to make out any specific words, although he did catch the word 'hospital'. 

"You sent me the finalized numbers months ago," Kate said, sounding angry. "We calculated the dosage based on your reports and predictions, Doctor! If we got it wrong, these mutts will start getting sick too quickly. You better hope for your sake that the poisoning will be gradual and that nobody notices anything's wrong until it's too late."

There was a pause where Doctor Blake replied, and then Kate's angry voice filtered through the door again.

"So what if one of the test subjects is deteriorating quicker than you expected? After two years, it was only a matter of time until her system collapsed. Two years is more than enough time to distribute the blame and prepare to cushion the blow to AWI. I've got a few measures in place that'll make sure things run smoothly." 

Stiles could barely hear Kate over the rushing in his ears. He jerked his hand back from the door handle, staring at gray door in the semi-darkness of the corridor. Kate knew about the flaw. Kate was involved in _creating_ the flaw. 

Kate's sharp, almost cruel-sounding laughter brought Stiles back to reality. 

"Something this slow-acting, we can claim ignorance with ease. Design flaw, unfortunate accident, human error - we're very sorry for the loss of thousands of our own troops, here have some money for the relatives. AWI would recover and we'd be one step ahead in ridding this world of these monsters. And you, Doctor, can take your money and spend the rest of your days on a beautiful tropical island." 

Kate said her goodbyes and Stiles turned around. He needed to get out of the building. If Kate and Matt were both involved, then he couldn't count on AWI security either. Kate was his boss and she was the CEO's daughter. None of the internal security guards would ever dream of detaining her or calling the cops on her.

Stiles headed back down the corridor and pushed the elevator button. The elevator car arrived quickly and Stiles breathed a sigh of relief. He stepped inside and was about to hit the ground floor button when Matt appeared in the corridor, a bunch of files in his arms and obviously on his way to Kate's office. 

"Stilinski! What are you doing back here?" 

"Matt!" Stiles said. "I, uh, I forgot something. In my office. I came to pick it up?" 

He inwardly winced and stepped out of the elevator. There was no way he could admit to being on his way out - with Matt in his office with a view of the main floor and Kate down the hall, there was nowhere he could have been. Acutely aware of Matt's eyes on his back, Stiles hurried down the corridor and into his office. There was no way he'd stay here if he could avoid it, but he needed an alibi for being there in the first place. He grabbed the five files he'd put on his to do list earlier and quickly checked that they weren't sensitive. They weren't which meant he could take them home without it looking weird. 

When he got back to the elevator, both Matt and Kate were in the corridor, talking quietly. Stiles slipped his hand into his pocket, feeling the outline of the flash drive as it burned a hole into his hip. 

Kate smiled and for the first time ever Stiles didn't feel simply uncomfortable by her attention. He felt scared. 

"Kate," he said. "Wow, is everyone working late today?" 

"Apparently so," Kate said. "I didn't see you when I came back in." 

"Just got here. I went home earlier for a … thing," he said, holding up the five files he'd grabbed from the office. "Catching up on some paperwork that's been piling up while everyone was focused on the mark IV." 

"Yes, I heard you were busy from Allison," Kate said. "But it's good that you're staying on top of the paperwork. It can be murder to sort through everything that's overdue." 

"You're telling me!" Stiles laughed, hoping it didn't sound as fake as it felt. 

The elevator doors finally opened and Stiles walked in, hitting the button for the second floor before he had time to think about it. "See you tomorrow! Don't work too late!" he said, same he always did when someone worked late.

"You too, Stiles," Kate said, giving him a pointed look.

"Huh?" Stiles blinked. "Oh, right," he added, his arm tightening around the files he carried. "I won't."

The elevator doors slid shut, taking him away from Kate and Matt's identical, suspicious expressions, and Stiles sagged against the wall in relief. He closed his eyes and counted to ten, trying to calm his racing heart. When that didn't work, he started over and counted again. 

He was on eight when the elevator stopped and the doors opened on the deserted second floor which housed the kitchens and the cafeteria. Seconds after he exited the elevator and headed for the stairs, the alarms started blaring.

#

Kate watched Stiles. The smile was seemingly frozen on his face and his hand shook as he pushed the call button for the elevator. He flinched, almost imperceptibly, when she said the word 'murder'.

As soon as the elevator doors closed, Kate turned on her heel and headed back to her office. 

Matt trailed behind her. "We need to go over the budget--"

"Not now," Kate interrupted. She pushed her office chair back, not caring when it collided with the sideboard behind her desk and sent a glass bowl crashing to the floor. The bowl survived thanks to the thick carpet in her office, but the small hard candies in it spilled out and spread over the floor. Kate quickly typed in her password and accessed the personnel files. 

"What are you looking for?"

"Stilinski was nervous," she said, searching his name in the database.

"So?" Matt said. "Stilinski is a freak. The guy is always nervous. He can't sit still for two minutes." 

"He's not always nervous; he has ADHD," Kate said. "Tonight he was nervous." 

"So?" Matt repeated. "Who knows what--"

"He never left work," Kate interrupted, cursing under her breath. "His key card was used on the elevator thirty minutes ago, not five minutes ago." 

"Shit," Matt said. "He wasn't in his office when I got here and he wasn't there when I went to get a coffee... about thirty minutes ago." 

Kate slammed her fist down on the desk, gritting her teeth when her hand started aching but the desk barely shook with the impact. 

"What are we going to do? If he knows, then--"

"If he knows, he's dead," Kate said calmly. When Matt only stared at her, she laughed. "Mattie, please. Did you think I wouldn't have a plan B?" 

Kate took a few short, quick breaths and picked up the phone, dialing the security office downstairs. "You need to seal the building," she said urgently, sounding like she'd run to the nearest phone. "My assistant and I just found an employee accessing restricted files. He got away from us - you have to stop him before he leaves the building!" 

Kate hung up the phone and smiled when the alarms sounded a few seconds later. 

"Matt, go down to IT. Find Harris and make him fix Stilinski's computer. I want anything related to our special project wiped, and Harris is to make it look like Stilinski accessed and copied restricted files he's not cleared for. I don't care what project you pick, it doesn't matter. Call me when you're done." 

Matt nodded and left the office. 

Kate reached for the phone, but before she could pick it up and dial, it rang. "Dad! I was just about to call you." 

"I saw a security alert about a breach?" 

"Just a minor problem."

"Minor problem? Kate, you know we're on the end run of a very special project that took years of planning and research," her father said. "Don't tell me there's a problem - tell me how you're going to fix it!" 

"It really is a minor problem," Kate said, rolling her eyes at her father's dramatics. "I've had a minor breach of security. One of my geeks - Stilinski, tall and gawky, new deputy head of R&D? - stumbled across some files for our special project. I've raised the alarm and as soon as we have him contained, I'll call the cops on him for theft and corporate espionage." 

"How much did he find?"

Kate pulled a face. "I don't know how much he knows," she admitted. "But I'll find out."

"Yes, you will," her dad said, his voice promising dire consequences should she fail. It was a tone she was well acquainted with. "We can't afford a leak now, Katie. We're so close that any disruption would cost us dearly." 

"Don't worry, Dad," she said through gritted teeth. Being called Katie always made her feel like she was twelve years old again. "I'll take care of it. I'll make sure he has an accident in his holding cell before he can tell anyone a thing." 

"See that you do, Kate. Don't disappoint me now, girl."

"I won't." 

Kate stood up and squared her shoulders. She would find Stiles and take care of the problem like she always did.

#

Stiles thanked his lucky stars that his dad was a sheriff and that his teenage years had been shitty enough to leave him with a good dose of paranoia. If not for that, he'd be facing an entire squad of private security officers in the lobby right now. Instead, he was taking the stairs two at a time, heading down to the parking garage. He didn't have a parking pass for the underground garage - his Jeep was across the street in the employee parking lot, but the garage seemed like the easier option to get outside.

The alarms were still flashing, but someone had turned off the siren. The parking garage was deserted and eerie, the flashing lights casting strange shadows between the cement pillars. Stiles wasn't sure how much ground was covered by the cameras, but he kept to the wall and hoped for the best.

Mike, the guard manning the little cubicle right outside the barrier, rarely left his cubicle. Stiles could see him, clicking his way through the security monitors to try and find him. Stiles could sneak along the wall and then below the window of Mike's cubicle, but after that he'd be in plain view. Still, Stiles would rather take his choices with plain old _human _Mike than any of the fitter _werewolf_ guards upstairs. It would only be a matter of time until they tracked him from the elevator to the staircase and into the garage. __

__Stiles slipped his hand into his pocket, making sure the flash drive was still there. His car keys were in his backpack, and he slowly eased the zipper open as quickly as he could without making any noise. After Mike spotted him, he doubted he'd have time to stop and fish for his keys._ _

__Keys in hand, Stiles crouched down and ran along the wall, approaching Mike's cubicle from behind. Overhead was a security camera that captured the entire entrance area, meaning that it would of no use to crawl below Mike's window. Mike would see him on the monitors._ _

__That made speed his only advantage. Mike had a good thirty years and - more importantly - thirty pounds on him. Thanking Scott for making him join the lacrosse team - which also included cross country runs at the direction of Coach Finstock - Stiles rose from his crouch and darted forward, ducking under the barrier before going into a full-out run. Mike shouted something after him, but Stiles wouldn't hear anything over the sound of the iron security gates starting to descend. Only forty more feet. He could make it if he didn't trip._ _

__Behind him, Mike shouted at him to freeze, but Stiles kept going. He was almost at the gates when a loud crack made him stumble and fall, rolling a few feet. The security gates settled on the ground with a rattling crash and Stiles carefully opened his eyes._ _

__He'd made it._ _

__His momentum had propelled him outside, the gates closing behind him. Stiles sprang to his feet, making a surprised sound when his backpack slipped from one shoulder. He held on to the backpack and sprinted across the street, thankful that the roads were clear. He had a brief moment of panic when the car key got stuck in the door lock, but after taking a deep breath it slid out easily and Stiles climbed into the Jeep, tossing his backpack to the passenger seat. He tore out of the parking lot, a few loose stones shooting out from under the wheels as he gunned the engine._ _

__The roads were deserted, the business district mostly silent and dark. Stiles gradually relaxed the closer he got to his apartment without hearing sirens, but his relief was short-lived. He was still a few blocks away when he saw the police cars parked in his road, lights flashing as officers entered his building. Stiles pulled over and watched as the lights in his apartment on the fourth floor turned on._ _

__If the police were at his place, that meant they were looking for him. Kate must have realized something was wrong and called the cops on him before he could call them on her._ _

__For a moment, Stiles didn't know what to do. He could go to the nearest police station, but if they were looking for him because of some phony crime Kate made up, they weren't likely to listen if he accused Kate of being the real criminal. There was also the fact that the Argents were rich and powerful. Kate was planning to slowly poison countless of soldiers simply because they were werewolves - Stiles doubted that she would have scruples bribing a few cops and maybe a judge to lock him away forever._ _

__No, a police station was out._ _

__He needed supplies, and then he needed time to think._ _

__"Thank god I'm good under pressure," Stiles muttered, steering the Jeep in the direction of Scott and Allison's place._ _

____

#

Money, it turned out, was going to be even more of a problem than Derek had anticipated. All he had to his name was a burnt out ruin on a piece of property that wasn't even cleared as a building site, a car - Laura's car - and a savings account that would pay for all of six of the ten tests on Doctor Blake's list. The tests were only the first step, too. Once they knew what Cora had, they'd need money for the treatment. Money that Derek just didn't have. He could sell the car and that would probably pay for two more of the tests, but selling the property would take a lot longer than they - than Cora - had.

Three years ago, before Cora won the scholarship from AWI, Derek was faced with the problem of how to pay for Cora's education. At the time his choices had been taking out a loan or robbing a bank. Thankfully it hadn't come to that, but Derek had been prepared to talk to a former military buddy of his. Bell ran a personal security firm, but his crew of bodyguards was more like a troop of mercenaries. The kind of guys rich people hired if their offspring got kidnapped while doing charity work in a jungle somewhere. Completely off the books, but highly paid. Derek was good enough for the job, even if it was somewhat questionable in its legality. 

Derek thought back to that morning. Cora, disoriented and sleepy, blinking up at him like a weak kitten. Questionable or not, his contract with the military ran out in two months. If he didn't sign up for another tour, he'd have to find a job somewhere else. So why not work for Bell? Bell might just loan him the money if they made a deal that Derek would come and work it off once he was out of the Corps. 

Sighing, Derek dialed Bell's number. After a few minutes of catching up, Bell finally asked why Derek had called. 

"I need money," Derek said. "My sister's sick and the insurance doesn't cover everything." 

"So you need a job?" 

"My contract runs out in two months," Derek said. "But Cora can't wait that long. I was hoping for a loan that I could work off when I got out of the service."

Bell drew in a breath, letting it out again slowly. "I don't know, man," he said. "I know you're a stand-up guy, but money and friendship don't mix."

"I'll sign whatever you want," Derek said quickly. 

Bell hesitated. "Like I said, D, you're a stand-up guy. Most of my missions aren't. You sure you can handle it?"

"I'm sure," Derek said. He'd have to. There was no other way. 

"Okay, look, why don't we give it a trial run? You're on leave, right?"

"A week," Derek confirmed. "Well, four days now." 

"Four days is plenty of time for what I have in mind," Bell said. "But it _is_ illegal. And I will deny any involvement or knowledge if you blab or get caught."

Derek frowned, but what were his options? Doing Bell's dirty work, maybe 'persuading' a customer with late payments that it was time to cough up the money or leaning on someone to get some information? He didn't have to like it, but he could do it. The only alternative was watching Cora fade away, and that simply wasn't an option. 

"What's the job?" he asked. 

"There's this guy - accused of treason, espionage, conspiracy, you name it. Someone wants to fix the leak. They're paying good money to have him removed from the picture," Bell said. "Permanently." 

"I--you want me to--"

"Yes or no, Hale?"

"What? No!" Derek hung up before Bell could say another word. Killing someone? Bell wanted him to kill someone! Part of Derek couldn't believe it. How could Bell go from being a soldier to being an assassin? He'd find another way. Get a loan from the bank. Sell the land. And if he had to work five jobs, it was still better than becoming a complete monster.

#

Stiles expected Scott to be at home, camped out in front of the TV and watching all the shows Allison usually vetoed. Instead, the apartment was empty and silent as Stiles slipped his key in the lock and cautiously entered the living room. After a quick check of the place, Stiles headed into the bedroom and dug a duffel bag out of the closet. He took it over to the dresser and rooted through Scott's clothes, grabbing all of his own clothes that had migrated over to Scott and Allison's place over time and eventually ended up mixed in with Scott's stuff.

Stiles left the duffel bag on the living room couch and entered the kitchen, intent on grabbing a few bottles of water and enough food to last him a couple of days. His stomach growled when he smelled the leftover spaghetti on the stove, reminding him that he never got to eat his vending machine dinner earlier. Propped up against the pot was a piece of paper with a note. Scott's familiar scratchy handwriting staring back at him, Stiles picked up the note. 

_I've gone to meet up with Allison! If I know you - and I do know you, Stiles - you're in my place, eating my food and drinking my beer.  Just make sure you rinse the bowl - and the pots while you're at it. See you tomorrow night! -Scott_

Stiles smiled, glad that Scott and Allison were together and safely out of town. He heaped spaghetti into a bowl and put it in the microwave. While his dinner heated up, Stiles grabbed water and bread, a jar of peanut butter and some cheese, adding it to the clothes in his duffel bag. 

In the living room, Stiles gaze hit the ugly dog figurine that Scott used for his emergency cash. He only hesitated for a moment before he picked it up and hooked his index finger in the hole on the bottom, pulling off the lid. There were three hundred dollars in the jar. Stiles pocketed it and vowed to pay Scott back as soon as he got the situation straightened out. 

His thoughts circled back to Kate. If Kate was involved, then how far did the conspiracy go? She couldn't have done it all on her own, not even with Matt doing the dirty work for her. A project like this was too big for only two people to sabotage. 

Allison wasn't even on the short list - apart from the fact that she was his friend and Scott's better half, she was also one of the sweetest and most caring people he knew. She fully embraced her family's legacy. She never once tried to make excuses for the atrocities committed under the Argent name throughout history and she fully lived up to the image of the reformed hunter family heir, still righting her family's wrong-doings after several hundred years of human-werewolf peace. 

Allison's parents were a possibility. 

Allison's mother Victoria was cold and scary, and she was perfectly suited for the cutthroat business world. Her position as the company's CFO also made her suspicious - if Kate and Matt's project diverted money or drew more than the amount allotted for the mark IV development, Victoria would be the one to know about it. 

Chris, Allison's father, was arguably nicer than her mom. Neither of Allison's parents liked Scott very much, but Chris hadn't 'accidentally' tried to kill him either. 

In the kitchen, the microwave beeped and Stiles grabbed a fork and started eating, burning his tongue on the first bite. But his hunger won out and he barely waited until the food was cool enough to eat to scarf it all down. 

Stiles needed a plan. The police were at his place - if they were in Kate's pocket, he couldn't go to the cops with his story. He would need someone impartial, someone Kate couldn't have gotten to yet. But who in the police force could he trust to--

Stiles slapped his own forehead and blamed it on the late hour and the stress that it took him over five minutes to remember his dad was the sheriff. Sure, he was the sheriff of a sleepy suburb, but there was enough crossover of cases that he had contacts in the Beacon City DA's office and a few other places. He had his cell phone out and was scrolling through the contacts before he realized that his cell phone could be used to track him. He switched it off and dropped it on the table. 

First order of business: get a burner phone. Stiles left his empty spaghetti bowl on the table and grabbed the duffel bag. Clothes, money, some food and water - he had everything he needed for now. He was already at the door when he realized that he needed to let Scott know what was going on. Thinking for a moment, Stiles grabbed a pen and a piece of paper from the notebook by the phone and scribbled out a quick message. Scott would believe his innocence without question, but Allison--

Stiles sighed, hoping that Allison would keep an open mind and not blindly believe her family over him. But he would believe his dad before anyone else, too, so he wouldn't blame her if she had a hard time accepting the facts. 

For the first time in years, Stiles dug his old police scanner out from under the passenger seat and switched it on. The first thing he heard was a repeat message to be on the lookout for a powder blue Jeep in connection with a case of theft and espionage. Stiles turned the engine off and cursed. His car stood out too much - he couldn't drive around town in it or he'd be spotted right away. 

Scott's bike was gone, but Allison's car was in the garage. She'd probably taken a taxi to the airport. 

Before he could think of a different plan, Stiles headed back inside and grabbed Allison's keys from the hook behind the door. He parked Allison's car at the curb and then pulled his Jeep into the garage. After stowing his duffel in the trunk of Allison's car, Stiles hesitated again. His dad wouldn't be able to do anything for him at ten thirty at night. He couldn't do much either this late. Nobody had reason to suspect he'd be in Allison and Scott's apartment if they weren't home. Nobody who Stiles thought might be connected to the conspiracy at least. 

Stiles rolled his head back, feeling tired and aching from his fall-and-roll stunt earlier. He also felt very exposed out in the street. 

Decision made, Stiles headed back inside and curled up on the couch.

#

John's first thought was 'god, please, no' when he opened the door and saw two men in suits, holding up identical police badges and wearing identical somber expressions.

"What is it? What happened?"

"Are you Sheriff John Stilinski?" Suit #1 asked.

"Yes, I am," John said. "What happened? Is it Melissa? My son? Scott?" he asked, his fingers tightening on the door handle.

The two men exchanged a look. "Have you been in contact with your son recently?" 

John frowned. "He calls me every Sunday. What's this about?"

"Has he ever expressed any discontent towards his employer?" Suit #2 asked.

"No," John said, narrowing his eyes. "Now you'd better tell me what this is about before I start making phone calls." 

The two men exchanged another look. Suit #1 nodded at his colleague and said, "Can we come in?"

#

The intensive care ward was as quiet as the day before when Derek made his way to Cora's room. After talking to Bell, he'd talked to a realtor about selling the Hale property in Beacon Hills and stopped by the bank. It hadn't left him in the best of moods since nobody seemed to be willing to grant him a loan.

Cora was asleep and Derek carried one of the chairs from underneath the window over to her bed. He put his hand on hers and watched Cora, feeling a wave of sorrow and affection. He and Cora had never been very close, but she was his sister and his last living relative. Even though they'd spent most of their lives apart from each other, Derek couldn't imagine life without her. Maybe, if Cora-- _when_ Cora recovered, they could try a little harder to have a better relationship. 

Cora's hair was lank and without shine and her usually full and rosy face was ashen and gaunt. The black mucus had made Derek think wolfsbane poisoning, but Doctor Blake had already run the test and come up negative. 

Derek frowned when Cora's cheek started twitching. He reached out a hand to touch her face when Cora suddenly rolled onto her side and started seizing. Her eyes opened only to roll back into her head as her body tensed and relaxed at uncontrollable intervals. From her clenched teeth and pained expression, it hurt. 

Derek hit the call button and shot out of his seat, heading for the door. 

"Can I get some help in here?" He yelled, watching the nurse's head pop out of another room. "My sister's having a seizure!" 

In the end it took both nurses and himself to hold Cora down long enough for Doctor Blake to inject her with a strong sedative. Derek waited outside while Doctor Blake examined Cora. She came out with a serious expression on her face, no hint of the flirtatious smiles from before. 

"I'm sorry, Mr. Hale, but it looks like your sister's health is deteriorating quickly. I've tried to stabilize her condition, but…it's not looking good. I need you to understand that we'll do everything we can, but Cora is in a delicate state right now. I've given her a sedative, but at the moment it looks like I'll have to put her into an artificial coma to keep the seizures at bay." Doctor Blake shook her head. "Again, I'm really sorry." 

"No, it's fine. It's not your fault," Derek said. "Do the tests." 

"I--"

"I have the money," Derek interrupted her. "I can pay you half up front."

"In that case, I'll talk to administration." Doctor Blake smiled and briefly touched his arm. "Don't lose hope."

Derek nodded and waited until Doctor Blake left. He walked back into Cora's room and looked down at his sister. She looked small and tired, with dark shadows under her eyes. The only sign that her body was still fighting was the light sheen of sweat on her forehead. He couldn't give up now. He couldn't watch his sister die and do nothing about it. He cupped Cora's head, stroking his thumb over her hair before pressing a quick kiss to the spot. 

"Don't worry, Cora," he whispered. "I'll fix it." 

Downstairs in the parking garage, sitting in his car, Derek took out his cell phone and called Bell. 

"I'll take the job."

#

"Let me get this straight," John said, anger simmering under his controlled demeanor. "You're looking for Stiles - my _son_ \- because you think he's a traitor and a thief? A _murderer_?"

"He was seen fleeing the scene of crime," Detective Johnson - Suit #1 - said. 

"There are several witnesses," Detective Egger - Suit #2 - added.

"And evidence," Detective Johnson concluded. "The restricted files were still on display on his computer, and the other security guards all say the same thing: the victim was pursuing your son and caught him, but your son overpowered the man and escaped after inflicting a deadly wound."

"No," John said. 

"Mr. Stilinski--"

"Sheriff Stilinski," John corrected. "And I know my son, Johnson. There's no way Stiles would steal sensitive information. He's worked on this project since before he started at AWI. That job is his dream job. He wouldn't risk that for anything." 

"Sheriff Stilinski, I know you must be upset, but--"

"Upset? I'm not upset! I'm furious. You're wasting your time chasing Stiles when you should be looking for the real culprits!" 

"If you see your son or he makes any other kind of contact with you, please inform us immediately," Detective Egger said, handing John a card. 

John held the door and then slammed it after the detectives stepped out onto the porch. Wondering what Stiles had gotten himself into, John moved into his office. First he'd call Melissa, then Scott and Allison. Someone had to know what was going on.

#

Stiles got up early, unable to fall back asleep after waking up to use the bathroom in the early morning hours. He had a quick breakfast of dry toast and strong coffee and then picked up Allison's car keys from where he'd dropped them the night before. His own set of keys sat beside Allison's, but Stiles knew he couldn't take his Jeep. Not if he wanted to remain as inconspicuous as possible. With one last look around, Stiles left Scott and Allison's apartment, locking the door behind him.

Allison's unassuming black Mazda got him downtown without attracting any attention whatsoever. Stiles briefly stopped to withdraw as much cash as he could from a supermarket ATM, making sure to keep the car outside the immediate range of any surveillance cameras, and then headed for the airport. The airport had tons of security personnel and probably more surveillance cameras than anywhere else in town, but it also offered the relative protection of a large crowd into which Stiles could simply disappear. He bought a burner phone and another USB drive and then set up his laptop in a corner, copying the data he'd taken from AWI's systems onto the new drive. While the files transferred, Stiles used his new phone to text his dad the number. After a second of consideration he sent a second text message, this one containing only his mother's maiden name. Stiles didn't even know if his dad had been informed yet. Stiles couldn't afford his dad ignoring his text if his dad didn't know what was going on.

The file transfer finished and Stiles shut down his laptop. He put it into the duffel, protected among his clothes, and then set off towards the lockers. Stiles didn't like leaving the protection of the bigger crowd in the main hall of the airport, but he needed to make sure his dad would have the same information he did, just in case he wouldn't be able to tell his story.

#

Derek spent the night at Cora's bedside, looking up at every quiet sound of distress and every weak movement his sister made. He reached out and took her pain several times until he felt the strain of it in his bones.

"Derek Hale, please come to the main reception desk," came a brisk female voice over the PA system. "Derek Hale, please come to the main reception desk."

Blinking, Derek stood up and stretched his muscles, leaning down to brush a kiss on Cora's forehead. 

"I'll be back later, Cora," he murmured. "Hang in there. I'll fix this." 

The main reception desk was in the hospital lobby. Derek had to wait in line behind an elderly man asking for his wife's room number before it was his turn.

"Mister Hale," the receptionist said. "You have a package." She held up a rectangular package the size of a large book. When Derek reached for it, she pulled back minutely. "This isn't a post office, young man, and I'm not a mailman. I hope you're aware of that."

"Sorry," Derek said. "I, uh… my sister is in a coma and I--"

The woman's eyes softened and she handed over the package. "Don't let it become a habit." 

"I won't," Derek said. "Last time, I promise." 

The woman nodded and Derek turned away, looking down at the package. It was wrapped in nondescript brown paper and had no return address on it. Derek took it with him into the parking garage and opened it in the front seat of his car, taking out the letter first. It was a list of addresses without any added commentary and Derek set it aside to look at the rest of the package's contents. A large ziploc bag contained a yellow shirt, a succinct note ('find him') and a stack of money. Derek left the ziploc bag and the address list in his car and headed back into the hospital. 

Doctor Blake was in her office already. She gave him a surprised look and a greeting that was more cheerful than Derek could muster enough enthusiasm for to return in kind. He dropped the box of money on her desk and her eyes widened when she saw the cash. 

Doctor Blake insisted on counting the money and giving him a receipt for the exact sum while Derek impatiently waited to get started on his job. He wasn't exactly eager to do it, but the sooner he got it over with, the sooner he could help Cora and put the whole thing behind him. 

When he finally left Doctor Blake's office, he nearly ran over one of the nurses. She had olive skin, long black hair and she was barefoot in her sandals. He'd never seen her before, but Derek was in too much of a hurry to do more than nod at her in greeting. She gave him a suspicious look and disappeared into Doctor Blake's office. 

Back in his car, Derek opened the ziploc bag and took out the shirt inside. It was colorful, with a beach scene print on the front. Derek didn't know the target's name or even what he looked like. Bell said he'd send Derek everything he needed to find the guy, and he had. With the man's scent and a list of places he frequented, it shouldn't be too difficult to find him. After that… well, Derek would cross that bridge when he came to it. For now, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to filter out the various aspects of the scent clinging to the fabric. He committed the scent to memory and then focused on the individual aspects. Male, on some kind of medication, full of energy. The man's scent was… happy. 

Derek frowned. The scent wasn't stale enough to be very old, but why would a traitor and criminal smell happy? Happy to have pulled off his crime? 

Derek hesitated for a second and then started his car, heading for the first address on the list.

#

It was a stroke of luck that Stiles ran across a guy desperate enough for some cash that he was willing to sell his beat-up old truck for a last-minute plane ticket to Michigan. Allison's car was less conspicuous than his Jeep, but his connection to Allison was too obvious for her car to grant him anonymity for much longer.

Stiles' new truck was old. The doors creaked and he had to use force to crack open a window so the wet dog smell inside the cabin wouldn't make impossible to breathe. But the tank was two thirds full and it was completely unconnected to his life. 

The default ring tone of his burner phone made Stiles jump, the unexpected noise jarring and too loud for his current state of mind. But when he saw his dad's number in the display, he breathed a sigh of relief and picked up the phone. 

"Dad!"

"Stiles," his father said. He sounded relieved, like he'd spent most of the night worrying about Stiles. It was a tone Stiles was intimately familiar with, dating back to his teenage years.

"I don't know what you know, Dad, but--"

"Two guys from state police were here last night," his dad interrupted him. "They're looking for you. For espionage and treason, among other things." 

"Treason!" Stiles exclaimed. "Dad, you know that's not true, right? I would nev--"

"I know it's not true," his dad said. "I don't believe for one second that you'd betray everything you've worked for almost your entire life. And even if it were true, I'd like to think that I raised you well enough that you'd own up to it." 

"No need," Stiles said. "I'm not the bad guy here, although I have a pretty good idea who is. Remember how I told you about Kate's weasel of a personal assistant?" 

"The one you said rubbed you the wrong way?" 

"Yeah. Turns out he and a few others have been sabotaging my project." 

"The one that got you promoted?"

"Mmm-hm," Stiles said, running a hand over the side of his face. He needed to shave at some point today or he'd really look like a criminal on the lam. "And the real kicker is that I'm sure Kate Argent is involved, too." 

"Your boss?" his dad asked, surprise coloring his tone. "Allison's _aunt_?" 

"I know," Stiles said. "I couldn't believe it either, but I heard it with my own ears."

"Do you have proof?" 

"I think so," Stiles said. "I haven't had time to look through all of it, but I copied a lot of files before I got caught. I've made a copy and put it in locker 303 at the airport. The locker is paid until the end of the week and the combination is mom's birthday. If anything happens to me--"

"Nothing is going to happen to you," his dad said. 

"Dad." Stiles sighed. "They already shot at me - the guards back at AWI when I was leaving the building last night. They got close enough that I need to sew the strap of my backpack back on. Kate Argent herself is involved in this, and I don't know how many of the Argents or AWI's board of directors helped her or at least know about it. The guards last night were certainly very eager to get me. Any cop in this city could be in her pocket."

"You don't know that."

"Oh, really? So you don't think that the people with tons of money who are planning a large-scale attack on werewolf soldiers might have bribed a few cops to make sure any leak gets fixed before he can open his mouth?"

His dad sighed, and the weary resignation in it made Stiles lean his head back and close his eyes. 

"Look, I _want_ to believe that I could turn myself in right now and live to tell my story to a grand jury. I want to believe that justice will win out and that the right people will go to jail for their crimes," Stiles said. "But you and I both know that's not quite how the system works. An accident in the holding cells, a faked suicide, an altercation between prisoners with an unfortunate end to the skinny guy with a few big charges to his name…" 

"I'll talk to a few people," his dad said. "I have connections in Beacon City. Maybe we should cut out the cops and go straight to the DA's office." 

"Good idea. If you can find a DA we can trust." 

"I'll find one, if you can hang on for a few days." 

"I have a clean car and a pocket full of cash. I can stick it out for a few days," Stiles assured his dad.

"Best head out of the city, though. Anything involving AWI is a high profile case." 

"Any suggestions? I need somewhere with electricity and a bed, but I can tough it out in this truck if I have to." 

"No," his dad said. "Don't just park at the side of the road somewhere. That's just going to attract attention." His dad hummed thoughtfully. "Hey, do you remember your mom's friend Barbra? She and her husband have a cabin about an hour from here. We went there two or three times when you were little." 

Stiles frowned. "Are you talking about that cabin at the lake? Where I caught a frog and kept him for a pet until mom made me put him back?" 

"Yeah," his dad agreed. "What was the name of that place again? Stonesign Lake? Stonehouse Lake? Stone-something Lake." 

"Stonebridge Lake!" Stiles said, snapping his fingers. 

"That's it!" 

"Okay, so I head to Stonebridge Lake and lay low, trying to sift through my evidence to filter out the relevant bits," Stiles said. "You find me an uncorrupted DA to talk to." 

"Will do," his dad said. 

"And Dad? If you don't hear from me in three days at the latest, get Danny Mahealani's contact info from Scott and have him put it all over the internet." 

"Nothing is going to happen to you, son," his dad said fiercely. 

Stiles smiled, feeling better even though his dad couldn't do much from over an hour away. "Thanks, Dad." 

"Any time," his dad replied. "Keep your head down and stay out of trouble." 

Stiles snorted. 

"More trouble," his dad amended. "I'll call you as soon as I have news." 

"I'll text you when I've reached the Stonebridge Lake cabin," Stiles said. "Love you, Dad." 

"I love you, too," his dad said. "Be safe."

"You too." Stiles hung up the phone and nodded. His dad would find someone he could trust, and then he could clear this whole thing up and go back to his life.

Stiles started the engine and headed out of the parking garage, steering his new truck onto the highway.

#

The first address led Derek to an apartment that was saturated with the target's scent, but held no traces fresher than at least a day. He hadn't been there recently. The coffee shop, the gym and the library that were also on the list held no traces of the man, leading Derek on a wild goose chase across half the city.

Derek stepped out of the last place on the list, a laundromat, and sighed. The only place that had shown any kind of promise was number eight on the list - a friend's apartment. But when Derek got there, a small crowd was gathered on the sidewalk, watching a handful of crime scene guys going over a car inch by inch while police officers searched the apartment. Derek caught a whiff of the target's scent near the car and cursed silently. His best lead, and the police were a step ahead of him. 

For a moment, Derek was stumped. He had no leads, no trace of his target and no idea where to look for him next. If his target was traveling by car, the scent would be too weak to trace anywhere in the city. Frowning, Derek contemplated his choices. His werewolf skills weren't getting him closer to the target - he needed to focus on other things. The target was human, so Derek needed to think like a human to figure out where he went. The target was a wanted man. He probably didn't know Derek was on his trail, but he had to know that the police were looking for him. A prey animal trying to avoid detection would either play dead or run. A human wouldn't play dead - it would be of no use. A human, Derek was sure, would run. 

There were several ways out of the city: airplane, car, boat, on foot. Derek dismissed leaving on foot right away - too slow and exhausting for a human. He wouldn't make it past the city limits before being caught. Boats were anonymous and securing passage on a ship without letting the authorities know was easy enough. But it would also mean being trapped at sea for however long the journey was. That left a car or an airplane. An airplane would be fast and long-range, but security was too strict to get onto a plane undetected. Unless his target had an expertly forged ID and a clean bank account, he'd be flagged down by security the moment he tried to buy a ticket. Still, Derek couldn't discount it. His target was a criminal - criminals had Swiss bank accounts and a collection of fake passports, didn't they? 

He drove to the airport, making a slow circuit around the area with both windows down before pulling into the parking garage to check inside the airport buildings.

Derek wasn't even out of the parking garage before he caught his target's scent, tracing it back to a parking space a level above his. There was no car in the spot and Derek cursed. If his target left town in a car, he would be a lot more difficult to track. 

The parking garage's security office was on the ground floor and the lone security officer in the small booth gave him a weary look when Derek knocked on the window. Derek didn't have a badge or even a private detective ID, but he managed to _persuade_ the security guard to make him a copy of the footage for that section of the parking garage.

#

Cora looked paler than she had that morning. She didn't react when he came into the room or when he put his hand on her head and leaned over to kiss her cheek.

Derek sighed and grabbed his bag from underneath Cora's bed. His laptop was buried underneath a pile of dirty laundry - probably the reason why it hadn't been stolen. He popped in the DVD from the parking garage and fast-forwarded through the footage, eyes fixed on the parking spot he'd identified earlier. At the start of the footage, the space was filled with a cherry red Mercedes. Derek had no idea what model, but it was a low-riding two-seater that looked expensive enough that it would have paid for Cora's medical treatment twice over. A woman in her mid-fifties arrived halfway through the tape, dragging a suitcase behind her. She heaved the suitcase into the small trunk and then got into the driver's seat. The footage was without sound, but judging from the speed of the car, she peeled out of the parking garage with squealing tires. 

The spot was empty for only a few minutes. A man in his forties, wearing a dirt-stained t-shirt and jeans, pulled into the spot next. He parked backwards and had to correct four times until his truck was parked inside the lines and not dangerously close to the cars on either side. He walked out of the frame with a worried expression on his face.

For the next hour there was no new activity. The Honda on the truck's left was switched for a Chrysler and a few people, struggling with bags, suitcases and kids, walked through the frame. Derek sat up when a man in his late twenties approached the truck, fiddling with the keys until he got the door open. It wasn't the same man who had arrived in the truck which meant that this was his target. Clever of him to head to the airport only to switch cars there. 

Derek wrote down the truck's license plate number. Bell would be able to trace it or find a way to give him access to the city's CCTV network, but Derek didn't want to involve his employer unless he had to. Bell would probably dock his fee if he had to help Derek with the job.

The target didn't start the car right away. Instead, he flailed a little and then raised a phone to his ear. He talked for several minutes. Derek couldn't read lips, but several phrases were easy to recognize. The target said 'dad' multiple times, meaning he was probably talking to his father. He also said 'I love you' and something about a cabin. That, Derek concluded, was the hint he needed. If he couldn't figure it out on his own, he'd have to find out the target's name and get to the man's father. But either way, he _would_ find the name of that cabin and collect his money. 

The door opened and Derek whirled around. Doctor Blake walked in, her eyes fixed to a clipboard. She checked a machine at Cora's bedside and then looked up, jumping when she saw Derek standing at the small table in the corner. 

"Oh, Mr. Hale! You scared me!" 

"Sorry," Derek said. "I came back a little while ago." 

Doctor Blake bit her lip, giving him a look that looked almost guilty. 

"What is it?" Derek asked. 

"I'm afraid I have some more bad news for you," she said. "Cora had another seizure shortly after you left, and I've had to make the decision to put her into a medically induced coma to reduce the stress of these seizures on her system." 

"But what about the tests?" Derek asked. "I told you, I can get the money. I--"

"The tests can go ahead as scheduled, Mr. Hale. This is mostly a precaution to make sure nothing worse happens while we wait for the results," Doctor Blake said, her voice soothing. "Most of the tests require nothing more than the patient's blood, so Cora can rest a little while we figure out what's wrong with her." 

Derek nodded. 

"I need your signature on a few forms, Mr. Hale," Doctor Blake said. "As Cora's medical proxy, you…" She trailed off and Derek looked up. 

Doctor Blake was frowning slightly, casting a confused glance at the laptop he'd failed to close when she came in.

"It's, uh, for work," Derek explained. The words weren't a lie, but Derek was still glad that neither of the werewolf nurses were there to hear his heartbeat. "I was hired to find this man. He's a fugitive." 

"Of course," Doctor Blake said, giving him an embarrassed little smile. "Sorry." 

"No problem," Derek said. "I'd be suspicious of anyone with surveillance footage, too."

Doctor Blake's smiled lost a little of its strain. "Are you close to finding him then?" 

Derek sighed. "Unfortunately, I've hit a snag. I think he tells someone where he's going, but I can't read lips."

"I can," Doctor Blake said, giving him a shrug when he looked at her in surprise. "My grandfather's ear drums burst in World War II. I speak sign language, too." 

"That's, uh, good," Derek said, wincing internally. "That you learned for him, I mean." 

"Do you want me to take a look?" 

"Would you?" 

"Sure." Doctor Blake nodded and Derek hit play. 

"Can you play it again?" 

Derek nodded and skipped back. 

"I'll text you when I've - I can't get the next one," Doctor Blake said, eyes fixed on the screen. "But the next thing he mentions is Stonebridge Lake cabin." She looked up. "Stonebridge Lake… I think that's outside of town, away from the coast. Does that help?" 

"More than you could know," Derek said. "I'll be back later tonight." 

"Okay. No, wait! I need you to sign a few forms first. As Cora's medical proxy, you need to approve of the tests." 

Derek signed Doctor Blake's paperwork and headed to his car. He had a job to do.

#

Jennifer tucked the paperwork Derek signed under her arm and looked down at Patient 431 - Cora Hale. She was pale and unresponsive. What a shame that any of the new and expensive tests her brother was paying for wouldn't yield any favorable results whatsoever.

Humming slightly, Jennifer finished her round and retreated to her office, noting down her observations on the special patients with clinical detachment. She liked Derek Hale - he was handsome and polite and the only aggression he displayed seemed to be in order to protect others, mainly his sister. There was nothing she could do to help Cora Hale, of course. Patient 431 was one of her earliest and best test subjects. Jennifer was far more concerned about Patient 188, the one in the bed next to Cora Hale. Now she was a problem patient through and through, responding erratically to the dosages and deteriorating far more quickly than anticipated. 

Derek Hale's face popped into her mind again. The way he'd lovingly brushed his fingers over his sister's forehead had been touching. Futile, of course, but very touching. Cora Hale would die within the month if Jennifer's calculations were correct. Maybe she could be there to comfort Derek in his time of loss. 

Jennifer sighed. Sometimes, the loss of life was necessary. As a doctor, she'd sworn an oath to preserve life and she broke that oath with a heavy heart. As an emissary, she'd sworn to protect her pack. Now all that was left of her pack was Kali, the rest of them eradicated by Deucalion. Deucalion got his just deserts, she and Kali had made sure of that. But Deucalion also opened her eyes to a few realities she'd been blind to before. Werewolves, especially violent ones, were a danger to everyone. A danger that she had to fight. 

For a moment, Jennifer hesitated. Gerard and Kate Argent were means to an end for her, a way to make sure the world wasn't in any danger from violent, aggressive werewolves. Jennifer didn't agree with the Argents' philosophy. She didn't want to kill all werewolves. She'd never do anything to harm Kali. But for now she needed the Argents. 

She picked up the phone and called Gerard. 

"Mr. Argent? This is Doctor Blake. I might have some information about that runaway you're looking for…"

#

Stonebridge Lake was large enough that swimming across it would take a strong swimmer almost an hour. It was a popular vacation spot that was - thankfully - nearly deserted at this time of year. An old stone bridge gave the lake and the small town its name and Stiles followed the signs to the cabins on the lake's northern shore. He didn't recognize Barbra's cabin itself, but he did recall the ugly garden gnome next to the door that was the hiding spot for the cabin's emergency key.

Stiles picked up the gnome and dug around in the loose earth until he emerged triumphant, clutching a dirt-encrusted key in his hand. The cabin reminded him of Lydia's family's lake house in Beacon Hills. It was large enough that calling it a cabin didn't do it justice. Four bedrooms and a full bath upstairs, with a kitchen, dining room and a large living room downstairs. 

Stiles closed and locked the door behind him. His first stop was the kitchen where he heated up a can of soup for lunch and sat down to eat, making a plan for the next few days. He needed to look through his evidence, make a list of everything he had on his USB drive. He also needed to record a statement telling his version of the story, just in case someone got to him before he could explain what was going on to the DA or a jury. Stiles didn't like the prospect of sitting around, waiting for his dad to call him, but there wasn't much else he could do. He just had to keep his feet still until it was safe to go back to the city.

Sighing, Stiles finished his soup and rinsed off the plate, putting it on the dish rack next to the sink to dry. He grabbed his bag and headed upstairs. Time to find out how much useful evidence he had.

#

"Gerard!"

Gerard turned around and opened his arms, hugging his granddaughter as she fell into his embrace. 

"Is it true?" 

"I'm sorry, Allison." 

"I can't believe that Stiles would ever…" She trailed off and sighed. 

"Your aunt Kate caught him red-handed. We're willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, of course," he assured Allison, "but the evidence looks conclusive. And the fact that he ran just cements that." 

"But Stiles loves this company. He loves Scott!" Allison protested. "He would never do anything to harm Scott or any other werewolf."

Gerard gritted his teeth, managing to keep the sympathetic smile on his face. "People change, Allison. Money is a powerful motivator."

Allison didn't respond, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. Gerard wiped them away and gave Allison one last squeeze. "We'll get to the bottom of this, Allison. If your friend is innocent, we'll find the real culprits. And if he'd guilty… we'll make sure he gets a fair trial."

Allison nodded and Gerard let her go, watching as she left his office. 

His expression hardened. Allison being involved, however tangentially, hadn't been part of the plan. Now there were police officers all over his granddaughter's apartment and she was upset about her friend's fate. 

Doctor Blake's call earlier came back to his mind and Gerard lightly tapped his fingers on the glass surface of his desk. Derek Hale - his daughter had hired Derek Hale to take care of their little problem. Kate's obsession with her little plaything had already caused a lot of problems. Nearly sixteen hours had passed and Stiles Stilinski was still a free man. That was completely unacceptable. Kate should have finished the job ten years ago, eradicating the Hales once and for all. If his daughter was too weak to do her job properly, then he would simply do it for her. He could kill two birds with one stone: silence Stilinski, and get rid of Derek Hale – permanently. 

His mouth set, Gerard reached for his phone.

#

Derek pulled into the driveway behind the truck, gravel flying as he braked hard. He wasn't too concerned with being conspicuous. If the human heard the car, he'd be too slow to do anything about it. If he didn't hear the car - well, all the easier for Derek.

The cabin was almost too large to call it that, with a wide wrap-around porch and a shed next to it that looked large enough to double as a garage. Derek cast a glance at the interior of the truck, smiling when he found the window open. He reached in and - wrinkling his nose at the strong dog smell from inside the truck cabin - released the catch for the hood. Derek was no mechanic, but he didn't need to be to make sure the truck wasn't going anywhere. With his claws extended, he poked holes in a few important-looking components and sliced through any hoses and tubes he could find, letting various liquids drip onto the gravel. Satisfied that the truck was out of commission, Derek turned to the house. 

He was inspecting the front door when a noise to the side caught his attention. Derek ducked and stepped back just as a set of claws raked across the spot where his throat had been only seconds before. An alpha, a good head taller than him and somewhat monstrous looking, was baring his teeth at him. 

Derek felt his own fangs drop in response, and he shifted his stance, turning his body into the attack when the other alpha charged at him. He used the other alpha's momentum to propel him forward, slamming his head into the front of the truck. The impact left a large dent in the truck's hood and knocked the other alpha out. When he fell to the ground, he separated into two people. Twins, both blond and bare-chested, in their mid- twenties. 

Shaking his head, Derek stepped back. _Magic._

The front door was locked, but Derek made quick work of the lock. With the other alpha - alphas - still passed out, he wasn't in immediate danger of them interfering, but they would wake up sooner or later. He didn't have any idea why they attacked him, but it was possible that Bell had double booked the job. Maybe they didn't want to share. Derek wasn't too happy about this job in the first place, but if he didn't do it, he wouldn't be paid. Cora's life was worth more to him than a stranger's life, even if he felt disgusted at the thought of taking a life outside of the line of duty.

By now the target must have heard the commotion. He was still in the cabin - Derek could hear his frantic heartbeat from upstairs - but he was flitting around, probably gathering his things to escape. Thinking for a moment, Derek looked around the room. The door opened to a short hallway that had open doorways into the kitchen to the left, the dining room to the right and a large, open-plan living room straight ahead. A large wardrobe was the only piece of furniture in the hallway.

Derek nodded to himself. It could work. 

The wardrobe was seven feet high and made of solid wood. It took him a minute, but he managed to drag it towards the front door. Instead of placing it directly in front of the door, Derek put it a few feet away and then tipped it over, leaning the entire weight of the wardrobe against the door. The angle of the wardrobe would make it impossible to push the door open. If they wanted to get in, the twins would have to fight their way through the door and then the wardrobe. It would give Derek enough warning, too.

The staircase to the upper floor was in the living room. It was made of wood, like most things in the cabin seemed to be, and wound its way around a corner and up a few more steps. The upstairs hallway was dim. The lone window at the other end of the hallway had curtains in front of it, the dark wood paneling on the walls absorbing what little light streamed up from downstairs instead of reflecting it.

Thankfully, Derek didn't need his eyes. The scent trail was strong. The target smelled nervous and afraid, and he hadn't even bothered with any of the other rooms, going straight to the one at the end. Derek smiled grimly and started down the hallway.

#

Stiles heard a car come up the gravel driveway and panicked for a second. He was supposed to be safe here, at least for a few days. He had a clean car, paid for everything in cash and this place only had the most tenuous connection to his dad. Neither of them had been here in over two decades. They hadn't even talked about the place since his mom died.

After taking a deep breath, Stiles darted to the window. He could see part of the driveway, but not the front door. A sleek, dark sports car was parked behind truck, blocking the way. Stiles cursed under his breath, then jumped when there was a loud crash and the sound of an impact. 

Stiles shook himself out of his stupor. He couldn't just stand at the window and hope to see what was going on. He needed to do something. Muttering under his breath, Stiles closed his laptop and put it in his bag. The en suite bathroom had a pair of scissors in a drawer and Stiles cut a small hole into the waistband of his boxer briefs, careful not to cut through the elastic. He pushed the USB drive with all the evidence on it into the hole until it rested inside the waistband at his hip. It was safer than letting it slip out of a pocket or getting it lost in the pit of his underwear somewhere. 

He dropped the scissors, but then picked them up again. It wasn't much of a weapon, but it was better than nothing. Grabbing his bag, Stiles turned around.

#

"I still can't believe it," Allison said for the tenth time in as many minutes.

"Then don't believe it!" Scott let out an annoyed sigh. "I don't."

Allison took her eyes off the road for a second to glance at Scott. He had his arms crossed, his head turned to look out the window and his lips were pursed. Scott was sulking. Allison could understand that. She felt like sulking, too. Or maybe like crying. They were gone for one night - one single night - and when they came back, Stiles was wanted by the police. Allison's car was gone - stolen by Stiles according to the police, although Scott insisted he couldn't have _stolen_ it because he knew where the keys were and that he was more than welcome to borrow it whenever he wanted. That much was true - Stiles was a huge part of Scott's life and as a result, he was a huge part of Allison's life as well. She liked Stiles. Some days Allison would go so far as to say she loved Stiles like the annoying kid brother she'd never had. 

But that was before she came home to find police officers combing through her living room and Kate telling her she caught Stiles copying restricted files. 

Allison sighed and slowed down as they passed the town limits of Beacon Hills. 

She didn't know what to believe. She couldn't imagine Stiles as a traitor. For as long as she'd known him, he was a supporter of werewolf rights. Most of his developments for AWI had been a direct result of him tinkering with something to improve life for Scott and make things easier on his enhanced senses. 

But on the other hand, her aunt and grandfather had no reason to lie to her. If Kate said she caught Stiles doing something illegal, then Allison didn't see how she could _not_ believe her aunt. 

With another heavy sigh, Allison turned into a side street and parked in front of the Stilinski-McCall house. For a moment, neither she nor Scott moved, staring up at the house. 

"What am I gonna tell Stiles' dad?" 

Allison gave Scott a sympathetic smile. "He probably already knows," she said. "But it'll be good for him that we're here. That you're here." 

"Right," Scott said. 

"Come on." Allison got out of the car and waited for Scott to follow her. Together, they stepped up to the door and Allison rang the bell. She shivered in the cold morning air and Scott put his arm around her. Allison leaned into his side and put her head on his shoulder. Kate was her family and she believed her. But Stiles was her family, too. Allison hoped that everything would turn out to be a big misunderstanding. Because if it wasn't… well, she'd be losing family either way.

#

Derek kept an ear on the twins downstairs. They were awake and hammering at the door, clawing at it and punching the wood until he could hear the creaking and splintering. So far the door kept them out, but Derek needed to hurry up. Still, he dragged his feet, keep some of his attention on the twins and some on the target. The target was full of frantic energy, flitting around the room he was in. He was muttering under his breath and Derek stopped for a second to listen in.

A steady litany of 'oh crap, oh crap, oh crap' reached his ears and Derek was about to tune out again when it stopped, only to pick up again after a second. 

"--just not fair, I'm too young and beautiful to die. Why, why, why is this crap happening to me? I'm just trying to do the right thing but do people thank me? No, they send killers after me. Great! I've always dreamed about being mauled to death."

Downstairs, one of the twins roared. The target's heartbeat jumped. 

"Okay, Stiles, keep calm. They're still outside. You can make it. Just wait until they're inside and then jump out the window. It's what? Ten feet? That's nothing. You can do it. Jump, get back to the city, prove my innocence." 

Derek frowned. Prove his innocence? The guy was wanted for a bunch of crimes. He snorted, but the sound was drowned out by another roar from downstairs. 

Inside the bedroom, the flurry of activity settled with the sound of some velcro straps being fastened. The muttering, however, continued until Derek reached the door and put his hand on the handle. What he heard, however, made him freeze. 

"--goddamn Kate Argent and her freaky family might get me killed, fine, but at least the evidence will be safe with my dad. He'll make sure she'll go down anyway and I'll have the last word. Metaphorically speaking, of course, because I'll be freaking dead." There was a short pause where the target - Stiles - whined. "Oh crap, I'm gonna die. Shit!" 

Derek's hand tightened on the door handle and felt his fangs graze his lip. Kate. Kate Argent. His first instinct was to let out a snarl. 

In the bedroom, Stiles let out a startled "eek!"

Derek took a deep breath, trying to keep his shift under control. Fear and adrenaline flooded his senses and he ripped the door open, nearly pulling it off its hinges as he burst in and the door frame splintered. 

Stiles screamed and stumbled back, eyes wide, like he hadn't realized anyone was _in_ the house already. 

"Just FYI," Derek said, his eyes flaring red, "not a smart move to announce your plans when you're up against werewolves."

#

Stiles paced, waiting impatiently for the werewolves he could hear roaring from downstairs to break down the door. His plan was stupid and reckless and probably going to get him killed, but didn't have much choice either. Werewolves were stronger and faster. He could never win an outright fight against a werewolf or outrun one. At least not without some creative thinking and keeping a cool head.

It wasn't easy, though, considering he could hear them outside, battering their fists against the door. Stiles was amazed the door was still keeping them out, but he wished it would break down soon. He didn't know how much longer he could keep himself calm enough to act out his plan instead of descending into a total panic. 

A snarl so loud that it sounded like it came right from outside the door startled him and Stiles jumped. When the door slammed open and a murderous looking mountain of werewolf muscle and claws and fangs burst into the bedroom, Stiles screamed and scrambled back, suddenly at least 99% sure he was going to die. His plan hinged on having at least twenty seconds warning after the wolves got into the house. He had it all planned out. When they reached the top of the stairs, he'd open the window and drop a book to make it seem like he'd jumped. In reality, his plan was to head through the en suite into the adjoining bedroom and down the stairs, sneaking out onto the deck through the sliding doors in the living room. 

For a second, he and the werewolf looked at each other. Then the man's lip twisted up and he tilted his head, making a smartass comment that completely derailed Stiles' line of thought. 

He didn't have much time to think about it though. A loud crash and a roar from downstairs made Stiles' eyes widen. More werewolves? How many people were coming to kill him? 

Wolf Man, who had so rudely interrupted Stiles' escape, slammed the bedroom door and then frowned when it failed to close properly. Stiles watched with wide eyes as the man single-handedly dragged the heavy wooden bed to the door and pushed it up on its side to act as a barricade. Once he was done with the makeshift barricade, Wolf Man turned to Stiles and Stiles stumbled back, landing on his ass when he tried to sit on the bed that was currently propped up against the door. 

Wolf Man rolled his eyes and pulled Stiles to his feet, ignoring the way Stiles snatched his hands back as soon as he was upright and put as much distance between them as he could. 

Wolf Man looked at him and Stiles froze, his mind blank. 

"Oh god, please don't kill me," he muttered when Wolf Man stalked towards him and grabbed his wrist. 

"Shut up," Wolf Man said, dragging him over to the window. Stiles had a split second to realize what Wolf Man's plan was, but he didn't have enough time to protest before he was unceremoniously shoved out of a second floor window. Stiles wasn't even aware he was screaming until the landing knocked the breath out of his lungs and stopped his - manly, totally manly, okay?! - scream from continuing.

Underneath Stiles, Wolf Man grunted and pushed Stiles off of him. He jumped back to his feet and pulled Stiles up fast enough that he felt like someone was trying to rip his arms out of their sockets. For all Stiles knew, that might be what Wolf Man was trying to do. 

But no. 

Stiles felt a little dizzy, but he was reasonably sure that Wolf Man wasn't trying to kill him. Why would he save his life only to try and kill him later? That didn't make sense. 

Through the open window, Stiles could hear a loud crash as the other werewolves tried to break through the bedroom door. He was just glad that they hadn't seemed to realize yet that they could just jump out of the window in the next room or take the stairs to get out the way they'd come in. Wolf Man, it seemed, was by far the lesser evil, as far as unknown werewolves went. Stiles decided to trust Wolf Man at least for the next five minutes. 

"Just FYI," Stiles said in the same tone Wolf Man used earlier, "I wasn't really going out the window. I'm not stupid; I was going to lock the door as if I'd barricaded myself inside and then sneak out through the en suite and down the stairs. The living room has sliding doors to the deck and the deck goes right up against the water where a boat is waiting for me. I'm pretty sure werewolves can't outswim a Zodiac. Do you think I'm a total idiot? You know, some of us don't have super healing powers and enhanced--" He looked Wolf Man up and down "--everything." 

Wolf Man gave him a flat look. "Why are you talking? Run!" he barked, giving Stiles a shove between the shoulder blades.

Stiles reacted immediately, going for a dead start, but he tripped over his own feet. Only Wolf Man's fast reflexes saved him from getting a faceful of gravel.

"Come on! The twins have given up on the bedroom door and are making their way back down the stairs," Wolf Man said, his fingers digging painfully into Stiles' arm as he dragged him across the driveway. "Move it, or do you want to die?" 

"What kind of a quest--no, I do not _want_ to die! I want to be at home, enjoying a hard-earned day off. Instead I'm caught up in this James Bond movie, but I'm not Bond. I'm not Q. Hell, I'm not even the Bond girl, okay? I'm the guy right at the beginning, who gets killed and kicks off the movie's plot. I--" 

"Shut up," Wolf Man said between clenched teeth, "and get in." 

He shoved Stiles at the passenger side of the inky black Camaro Stiles had seen out of the window earlier. At any other time, Stiles would have run his eyes over the shiny finish and the sleek lines of the car in appreciation, but what was left of the front door of Barbra's cabin exploded into a shower of splinters as two identical werewolves burst out, claws and fangs extended. They set off towards Stiles at full speed. 

Stiles scrambled with the door handle, nearly falling into the car once he finally got the door open. Wolf Man gunned the engine before Stiles had time to close the door. It shut painfully on his leg as the car sped off, gravel flying in its wake. Stiles struggled to right himself, but failed to get enough purchase in his awkward position. Wolf Man - his rescuer? - eventually grabbed a fistful of Stiles' shirt and yanked him upright, reaching across him to slam the door closed. 

Stiles twisted around, trying to catch a glimpse of the twins following them. 

"They came on foot," Wolf Man said, not taking his eyes off the road. "Probably gone to get a car or bikes before they chase us. They could have kept running, but that would be too exhausting in the long run." 

"That's… good to know?" Stiles said uncertainly.

"It means we have a head start," Wolf Man said. "And if you stop talking, they'll have a harder time tracking us." 

"Good." Stiles nodded. That was good. Great even. "Can I at least know your name? I mean, you did save my life and all and I can't keep calling you Wolf Man in my head." 

Wolf Man barely took his eyes off the road, shooting Stiles a quick glance out of the corner of his eye. "Derek," he said, sounding reluctant.

"I'm Stiles," Stiles said. "And thanks. For saving my ass."

"Don't mention it," Derek said, letting his eyes flicker up to look into the rearview mirror. 

"No, really," Stiles said. "I am really glad you showed up when you did, man. You saved my life."

"I get it," Derek said. "Now shut up." 

Stiles mouth 'okay' at him and mimed zipping his mouth shut. Fine. He could be quiet for a while. Until they arrived at… Stiles frowned. Where were they going anyway?

#

"No." Allison shook her head. "Why would she do that?"

"I don't know, Allison," John said. "But that's what Stiles told me. I know you don't want to hear this, but I know my son." John put a hand on Allison's shoulder. "You know him, too, Allison. You _know_ Stiles is not a traitor. He wouldn't steal or commit treason. He wouldn't betray you or Scott like that, and he wouldn't betray the company. You have to know that."

"But - this is my family you're talking about!" Allison shook off his hand and took a few steps back, shaking her head. "Why would they do that?" 

John looked down. He didn't have an easy answer for Allison. "Look, I'd love to tell you this is all a big misunderstanding, but Stiles said Kate and Matt were sabotaging the big project they're working on." 

"The mark IV?"

"I don't know what it's called," John said. "The new thing they're going to release next week?"

"The mark IV," Allison confirmed. "But that's impossible. It doesn't make sense to sabotage the mark IV. If the gun is defunct somehow, AWI would lose billions of dollars. Kate wouldn't do that."

"But that's not the only thing they could sabotage about the weapon, is it?" John asked, his voice gentle but firm.

Allison looked at him, unspilled tears in her eyes. "No! No, I don't believe you!" With a few quick steps, Allison reached the doorway to the kitchen and disappeared. A second later, the back door slammed shut. 

Scott looked after her and then back at John, like he wasn't sure which one of them he needed to talk to first. 

"Stay here," Melissa said. "I'll go after her." 

"Thanks, Mom," Scott said, sinking back down into his seat. He looked at John. "Do you really believe that they're doing this? Sabotaging their own project and letting Stiles go down for it?" 

John shrugged. "I can't believe anything else." 

"Yeah, me too. The only way I'll believe that Stiles had anything to do with this is if he tells me to my face that he's guilty." Scott sighed. "I wish I knew what to say to Allison though. I can't even imagine having to pick a side." 

They were silent for a moment, both contemplating the difficult position Allison was in. 

"I understand if you two want to stay out of it," John said eventually. "But if you could keep the fact that I've had contact with Stiles to yourselves, I'd appreciate it."

Scott opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say anything, they heard the back door opening. A moment later, Allison appeared in the doorway, Melissa hovering behind her. 

"I want to find out the truth," Allison said. Her eyes were bloodshot and she looked tired and stressed, but her voice was calm and steady. "And if that means taking down my family or part of it, then so be it. But I need proof before I believe one of them over the others."

"Of course you do," John said. "We all want to see proof one way or the other. Let's make a deal. We find out the truth, no matter where it takes us. Together." He stood up and held out his hand. 

Allison shook it and then threw her arms around his neck. "I don't want it to be Stiles," she whispered into his ear. 

"Me neither, Ally, me neither," John replied with a sigh. 

"So, what do we do now? Find Stiles?" 

"No." John shook his head. "Stiles made me a copy of the evidence he took. We go and retrieve the evidence before it falls into the wrong hands."

#

After a very quiet and somewhat uncomfortable car ride back to the city, Derek parked at the very end of a motel parking lot on the outskirts of town. The setting sun bathed everything in a warm, golden light, giving the somewhat rundown motel a charming character. Derek didn't seem to think so. He got out of the car and waited until Stiles joined him, locking the doors after him.

"I'll get us a room. Wait here," Derek said curtly, making a hand gesture that reminded Stiles of his dad's deputy in charge of the K9 unit. He made the same gesture when he told his service dog to 'stay'. 

Stiles huffed and made a quiet 'woof' noise. 

Derek, about to open the motel door, paused for a second, his shoulders tense. 

_Oh, right. Werewolf._ Stiles felt himself flush, but he ruthlessly clamped down on his embarrassment. Derek should just keep his ears to himself. 

It wasn't until they were upstairs in a shabby but clean second story motel room that Stiles got his first good look at Derek. He'd spent the first ten minutes of silence in the car sneaking glances at Derek's profile, but after the man glared at him, Stiles had turned to look out the window, letting the passing scenery lull him into a light doze as he quietly tried not to panic. Now there wasn't anything else to look at except for a couple of beds, a threadbare carpet and a TV older than Stiles. 

Derek was a few years older than him, with at least two weeks' worth of facial hair and a face and body to die for. There was something familiar about Derek, too, but Stiles couldn't pin it down, leaving him with a vague feeling of deja vu whenever he looked at Derek. Derek possessed broad shoulders, muscular arms and nice legs, with piercing eyes, a strong jawline and flawless skin. This begged the question why a male model happened to be in the area when Thing One and Thing Two found him and decided to make mincemeat out of him.

"So…" Stiles said. "I don't really know who sent you, but - again - thank you. I guess it wasn't a coincidence that you happened to be there to save my skin. Do you know my dad? Scott?" 

"No," Derek said. His face remained stoic, but Stiles caught a hit of a flush at the edge of Derek's collar, creeping up his neck.

"Okay, look, I have had the shittiest 48 hours of my life, and this situation is far from over. I'm grateful - I mean, I am truly grateful that you saved my life - but I'm kind of in the middle of something and I--"

"Tell me who you are and how AWI is involved," Derek interrupted him. 

"I'm sorry?" 

Derek made an impatient noise that bordered on a growl, an angry but desperate look in his eyes. "Tell me!" 

Stiles frowned. Desperate? He didn't have time to mull it over in his head because Derek lost his patience. He growled and shoved Stiles back against the door, eyes flashing red. 

Stiles had never been afraid - truly afraid - of werewolves. Apart from a very general 'they have claws and I don't' sort of awareness, he hadn't had a reason to be afraid. No werewolf he knew had ever been a serious threat to him personally, but looking into Derek's dark red eyes sent a stab of fear through Stiles' heart. For a brief moment he wondered if that was how Scott had felt right before that crazy off-the-rails alpha had bit him. 

"Derek, w-what are you doing?" he stammered, his arms coming up to push uselessly against Derek's chest in an effort to get him to back off. 

"Tell me what you have to do with AWI."

"Why do you want to know?" 

"None of your business," Derek growled, leaning in a little closer. 

Stiles expected him to put more weight on the arm until the pressure on Stiles' chest became unbearable and he yielded. But Derek didn't. He did keep an iron grip on Stiles and didn't budge when Stiles pushed back against him, but for all of Derek's snarling and growling, he wasn't hurting Stiles. 

Stiles eyes widened. Derek was posturing, using the fact that he had fangs and claws for intimidation. Scott did the same thing when Stiles ate the last chips out of the bag. He waved the empty bag around like a flag and snarled angrily until Stiles got up and fetched another snack. 

Stiles took a deep breath and tried to calm his racing heart. Derek's alpha-red eyes were still burning into his, but the fangs had retracted, leaving Derek with even, utterly _human_ teeth. Stiles' hand was shaking slightly - adrenaline, Stiles told himself, _not_ fear - when he reached out and flicked Derek on the nose. It was probably not the smartest move he could have made, flicking an alpha werewolf's nose, but Derek _had_ saved his life not two hours ago. Stiles could be reasonably sure he wasn't in mortal danger from him, and the nose flick always worked on Scott. If it worked on one alpha, it could work on another. Hopefully without bloodshed.

Derek blinked, his eyes shifting back to their usual hazel color. "Did you just… flick my nose?"

Stiles raised his eyebrows and kept his expression neutral as he replied coolly, "Be glad I didn't have a rolled up newspaper or a squirt bottle of cold water handy."

Derek didn't step back, but he took his hand off Stiles' collar. "Dog jokes," he muttered. "I've never seen someone react with dog jokes when an alpha got into their face." He sounded reluctantly impressed.

Stiles smirked. Derek could probably smell the lingering traces of fear and hear the still too fast beat of his heart, but that just made it better. Stiles Stilinski, plain old human and definitely the Jimmy Olsen to Derek's Superman, had just won a staring match with an alpha werewolf. 

"Look, Derek," he said, trying not to sound too smug. "You have questions, I have questions. Why don't we sit down and try and answer each other's? You know, like the civilized people we supposedly are?"

"Fine," Derek said. He reached out and then smirked when he heard Stiles' heartbeat jump in response. 

Stiles glared as Derek straightened the collar he'd crushed in his fist, his anger overriding his impulse control. If Derek wanted to be a sore loser, then Stiles would simply have to remind him just who had come out on top not two minutes ago. As soon as Derek let go of Stiles, Stiles reached out and straightened the collar of Derek's leather jacket. The fact that it hadn't been in disarray was unimportant - Stiles _would_ have the last word no matter what, even if they were fighting it out through polite gestures.

Derek stepped back, an amused smile on his face. That probably meant Derek thought _he_ had won, but Stiles knew better. He kept his head high as he walked past Derek and tossed his bag onto the bed closer to the window. He turned and crossed his arms. 

"Why do you want to know about AWI?" Stiles asked.

Derek sat down on the other bed, elbows on his knees, and folded his hands. He looked up at Stiles and Stiles found himself wondering if he'd have enough time to puzzle out what made Derek tick. He was a dangerous, ready-to-attack alpha one moment, and the next he looked like a scruffy history professor settling down to discuss the details of the French Revolution with his History 101 class.

"I can't protect you if I don't know the whole story," Derek said. 

"So you were hired to protect me?" Stiles frowned. "Who hired you? My dad?"

Derek shrugged. "Someone hired me, but I don't know who. I got the job from a friend. He and I used to be in the same company before he left the army." 

"So you were a soldier?" 

"I _am_ a soldier," Derek said. "But I'm on leave right now."

Stiles frowned, giving Derek a suspicious look. "And instead of taking a trip to Vegas for some party time, you decided to risk your life for a complete stranger?"

The muscles in Derek's arms tensed, like he was trying to keep himself from moving. "My sister is sick. I need money to pay for her treatment." 

Stiles nodded. It made sense. Werewolves, especially military trained werewolves, had a monopoly on the private security sector. Better senses, faster reflexes, enhanced strength - all things that made someone a good soldier… or a good bodyguard. Derek's explanation still felt a little off to Stiles, but he had bigger things to worry about than the internal conflicts of a man working an extra job for some quick cash so he could help his sick sister. 

"I still don't get what it has to do with Kate though. If you were hired to protect me, then what's so important about Kate Argent that you tried to attack me after saving my life?"

"Kate Argent is dangerous," was Derek's simple answer. 

Stiles snorted. "No shit. I hear she hired a couple of guys to kill me."

Derek flinched. It was a subtle thing. Stiles wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been staring at Derek, trying to figure out how he fit into the crazy last twenty-four hours of his life.

"All you need to know is that I would like nothing more than to see Kate Argent behind bars," Derek said. He stood up, his hands curling into fists, and started pacing. "I heard you talking to yourself in that cabin. If what I heard is true, if you have something on her that could send her to prison, I will personally make sure the twins don't get you." 

Derek stopped in front of him, standing uncomfortably close. Scott sometimes had that problem, too. Werewolves and their lack of personal boundaries. Scott was his brother; it was annoying only some of the time when Scott did it. It was a thousand times more annoying when Derek with his model-like looks did it. Derek's next words, however, reminded Stiles that this wasn't a vacation. He and Derek weren't in a motel room together for _fun_. 

"I'll take you to the nearest police station right now if you want," Derek said. "Unless you need to get that evidence you were talking about first." 

Stiles stared into Derek's eyes, wondering what it was about AWI and Kate in particular that unsettled him so much. The night before, Stiles found out his boss, and friend's aunt, was kind of crazy. The enormity of what Kate had done - was trying to do - wasn't lost on Stiles. Thousands of soldiers would be first, and if the few scraps of additional designs he'd seen were what he thought they were, then even more would follow. But Derek didn't know all that. His reaction to Kate was far too strong to be a result of general knowledge of her criminal activities, even if they were primarily anti-werewolf crimes. 

"What did she do?" he asked, keeping his voice as gentle as he could. "Derek? What did she do to you?"

Derek shook his head, his eyes sliding past Stiles to look at the wall behind him. "It's not important." 

"I think it is." 

Derek kept his eyes fixed on a spot behind Stiles, his face utterly blank. "My family died in a fire." Derek said, barely louder than a whisper. "It was a long time ago," he added when Stiles gave him an alarmed look. "I was a teenager back then. Everyone died except for my two sisters and my uncle. He was badly injured in the fire and didn't wake up for a long time."

"Oh my god, you're Derek Hale," Stiles blurted out before he could stop himself. 

Derek's eyes snapped to Stiles' face and he gave Stiles a guarded look. "How do you know that?"

"My dad's the sheriff in Beacon Hills. Sheriff Stilinski? I was there when he told you and your sister about your uncle and the rest of the family. Well, I was outside in the hallway, eavesdropping," Stiles said with a rueful smile. He dropped it when he caught sight of Derek's stony expression. "I was ten at the time and had a broken arm. That's why I was there and not at home. Dad was off shift already, he'd taken me to the hospital, but he heard the radio call and told them he'd come back in to handle the notification himself. It was just my dad and me back then - my mom… she died when I was eight. I didn't have a regular babysitter, so I spent a lot of time at the station while Dad worked." 

Derek had a faraway look in his eyes, like he was lost in his memories. Stiles lightly touched his arm, watching as Derek blinked and turned his eyes back to Stiles. 

"Is that--do you think Kate had anything to do with--"

"I _know_ she did it," Derek interrupted, his eyes edged in red. He turned away and stalked over to the window, his eyes scanning the courtyard and parking lot below. 

"But you don't have any proof," Stiles guessed. 

Derek silently shook his head.

Stiles hesitated, unsure what to say. He wanted to ask more questions. _A lot_ more questions. Derek's uncle Peter, comatose after the fire, had somehow managed to kill his niece to become an alpha and went on a turning spree, turning Scott and three other teenagers in Beacon Hills before the police captured him. Given that Derek was an alpha, it was obvious what had happened. Feral werewolves couldn't be rehabilitated. Past a certain point they were barely cognizant of anything beyond their basest instincts, and the laws were clear. The werewolf's pack members were notified if they weren't already aware, and the feral werewolf was executed. Derek must have come back to town for the execution, but Stiles couldn't know that for sure and he had no intention of asking. 

Derek's story tied in very neatly with his own past and that bothered Stiles. Together with the fact that Derek had just shown up at the cabin and saved his life after being hired by a mysterious unknown party it was enough to make anyone suspicious. 

At the same time Stiles was sure Derek's surprise earlier hadn't been fake. Derek hadn't had a clue who he was and that they came from the same town.

With a sigh, Stiles sat down on his bed. Even if Derek wasn't who he said he was, what choice did Stiles have? He needed help, if his encounter with the twins was anything to go by. If Derek was willing to risk his life for Stiles - or more accurately, the evidence against Kate Argent - then Stiles would gratefully accept his help.

"I work at AWI," he said. "Or at least I did? I'm not really sure. No one fired me, but they did call the cops and accused me to treason and espionage, and obviously I didn't show up for work today, so I'm not really sure where I stand. Can they--"

"Stiles." 

"Right," Stiles said. "Sorry." He opened his bag and took out his laptop. "I work at AWI. Research and Development. I was promoted to assistant head of the R&D department a few weeks ago. Kate is the head of the department and my direct supervisor." 

Derek tensed at the mention of Kate and started pacing again. 

Stiles booted up his laptop and then reached over and switched on the bedside table lamp. He plugged his laptop into a power outlet in the wall next to the bed and opened his directory, calling up the design plans for the mark IV. 

"Here, look at this," he said, turning the laptop so that Derek could look at the screen. "I've been working on this project pretty much since I started at AWI. You might have heard of it on the news? The mark IV LS-safe assault rifle AWI is developing?" 

Derek stopped his pacing and sent a curious look at the laptop. "The new rifle that's supposed to revolutionize warfare?" 

Stiles nodded. "The very same."

"My unit is supposed to be one of the first outfitted with that rifle," Derek said. "You're the one who built it?" 

Stiles shrugged. "I had the original idea. There was a whole team of scientists at AWI who helped me develop it to a point where it became a successful prototype. The board at AWI supported the designs and fully funded all research, development and testing. It's going to be AWI's biggest new hit. The first shipment goes out in one week." Stiles breathed out through his nose, making a sound too annoyed to be a sigh. "Too bad it's going to kill every werewolf who uses it."

"What do you mean?"

"These rifles, they're anti-werewolf weapons that are safe for werewolf soldiers to handle - at least as originally designed." Stiles hands flew over the keyboard. He opened the altered plans and displayed both schematics side by side. "Someone altered my original design to include a flaw that'll leak poison into our soldiers' systems until it's too late to save them. It's a flaw that is virtually undetectable - unless you have the unfortunate luck to be the original designer. I stumbled over the approved design plans and noticed they were wrong. When I tried to talk to Kate about it, I overheard a conversation that made it clear she was involved. I tried to get away before they noticed I was there, but they caught me. I managed to get away and half an hour later, my face was on every cop's to-do list for the evening and now Kate is sending killers after me!" 

"Calm down," Derek said. He stepped closed to the bed and took the laptop from Stiles' hands. "I don't see a difference." 

"It's there," Stiles assured him. "Do you see the cylinder with the spiral-shaped cage around it?" 

Derek nodded. 

"That's the key piece of the design," Stiles said. "The main difficulty was to make the weapon functional for combat situations without letting even the most minimal amounts of wolfsbane escape during its use. If any of the measurements are off by anything outside of the allowed margin, the weapon won't be airtight."

Derek frowned at the laptop. "The measurements are written on the lines, right?"

"Yeah." 

"They're off, but not by much." 

"That's the really clever bit. The numbers are still inside the regular safety margin. But that margin is for regular rifles. The margin is much smaller with this specific rifle, and those numbers are far beyond the acceptable deviation from what we've calculated as necessary for the rifle to do what we promised it would do. You see, it'll still comply with standard safety tests. Nobody is going to notice anything is wrong. Meanwhile the rifle will leak incredibly small amounts of wolfsbane that will build up in the user's body over time."

"It doesn't make any sense," Derek muttered. 

"No, actually, it makes perfect sense," Stiles argued. "I'm their scapegoat. I'm pretty sure they were going to set me up anyway - why promote a twenty-eight year old tech guy to assistant head of R&D? I have the technical know-how and I've been with AWI since I started interning there during college, but there are at least ten other people in the department who have more experience and who've been with the company longer. I'm new-ish, I'm young, I'm 'alternative' - they were going to pin this on me anyway. I just sped up their plans. That's why they've been ahead of me every step of the way," Stiles said in sudden realization. "They've been planning for something like this." Stiles snorted, shaking his head. "They probably have a good portion of cops on their payroll, too. Why am I not more surprised?" 

"No," Derek said. "I meant it doesn't make sense for Kate. She's smart, but she's not subtle. If she can throw a grenade into a crowd and get away with it, then she won't bother picking them off one by one. She set my house on fire and stood there laughing in my face! This doesn't seem like her."

Stiles shrugged. "Maybe it wasn't her plan. Gerard, AWI's CEO and Kate's father, gives me the creeps. And he hates Scott." 

"Who's Scott?"

"My best friend and brother," Stiles said. "He's the sweetest guy you'll ever meet, I swear. He works as a vet and regularly sends everyone pictures of cute kittens and other baby animals. But he's an alpha and he's dating Allison. I always thought Gerard just never thought Scott was good enough for Allison, but that's bullshit. Scott is kind and gentle and protective and Allison loves him. Anyone else would be glad to have Scott marry into the family, but I suppose it makes sense when you consider the mass murder conspiracy." 

Stiles looked up and found Derek staring at him, his eyebrows set in a deep scowl. "Derek? What's up?"

"Your brother is dating an Argent?"

Stiles opened his mouth to reply and was interrupted by a jaw-popping yawn. "Sorry," he muttered. He stretched and moved his head from side to side, wincing when his neck cracked. "Look, I know what you're going to say. But Allison is _not_ like that. I've known her for over ten years and for most of that time, she's been in love with Scott. Like, stupidly in love. The forever type love. Romeo and Juliet, but without all the death." Derek's eyes still help a suspicious glow, so Stiles continued. "Scott and Allison broke up in high school and got together again in college. Do you want to know who Allison dated in between? Another werewolf. She's best friends with a banshee. One of our friends is a kitsune, another a were-coyote. Allison is a genuinely nice person, Derek. She has nothing to do with this. I would bet my life on it."

The effect of his heartfelt speech was ruined by another yawn.

"We should sleep," Derek suggested.

Stiles looked down at his laptop. "But I haven't had a chance to look through the files I managed to copy yet. You and the twin assassins interrupted me earlier." 

"We can't do anything tonight anyway. Get some sleep, look it over tomorrow and then we'll make plans to hand it over to the police." 

"I'm already working on that," Stiles said. He shut the laptop and put it back into the bag before shoving the bag underneath the bed. "My dad's the sheriff, remember?" 

Stiles yawned again and kicked off his shoes. He took off his jeans and the plaid shirt he was wearing, leaving him in boxers and a t-shirt. 

"Hey," he said, arranging the blankets around himself. "Aren't you going to sleep?"

Derek turned his back on Stiles and looked out of the window again. "Later," he said gruffly. 

Stiles rolled his eyes and switched off the light, plunging the room into darkness. "What a sourwolf," Stiles huffed and turned around, facing the wall. For a brief moment, Stiles was sure he'd have trouble sleeping, his mind mulling over the events of the day again and again. Ten minutes later, he was fast asleep.

#

The sky was still dark when Stiles awoke. For a moment, he wasn't sure what woke him, but then he heard clothes rustling and someone panting quietly. It reminded Stiles of the sleepovers he and Scott had as teenagers, when they were both trying to jerk off quietly without waking the other. Somehow, though, Stiles couldn't imagine Derek - uptight, angry Derek - trying to get in a little 'me time' while he was in the same room.

Stiles eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness in the room and he sat up. The rustling stopped for a second, but then picked up again. 

Squinting into the darkness, Stiles tried to make out anything beyond gray-in-gray shadows, but without much luck. He groped for the light switch and then blinked against the sudden brightness. It was just after 5 am and Stiles sighed. He hadn't even managed six full hours of sleep, but it was still better than nothing. 

The other bed didn't look slept in, but Stiles fully suspected Derek was the type of person who made his hotel bed after he'd slept in it. Derek was on the floor between the other bed and the door. All Stiles could see of Derek, while sitting on his own bed, was his naked back rising into view every few moments as Derek was doing push-ups. 

Yawning, Stiles ran a hand over his face and scratched at the stubble on his chin. A beard would be a great way to disguise himself, but after a few unsuccessful college experiments Stiles knew that his facial hair was anything but impressive. Unlike Scott, who could grow a full beard in three weeks flat, Stiles only managed an uneven and patchy growth that made him look like a barber shop trainee's victim. 

Stiles stood up and dug through his duffel bag, grabbing clean clothes and his toiletries. Standing up, he could see more of Derek and the play of muscles in his naked back and shoulders. Derek's arms flexed and he switched from doing regular push-ups to one-handed push-ups. On two fingers. 

Stiles jumped a little when Derek suddenly paused, one arm behind his back, the other fully extended, and turned his head to look at him. 

With an embarrassed jolt, Stiles remembered that a werewolf's enhanced sense of smell could pick up pheromones and other scent markers that indicated someone's emotional state. Clutching his bundle of clothes a little tighter, Stiles pretended like they didn't both know he had an erection and nodded at the bathroom door. 

"I'm going to take a shower," he said, wincing internally at the fake nonchalance in his voice. 

Derek didn't say a word as Stiles stalked over to the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. He turned on the shower and then used the toilet while the water heated up. 

The enhanced sense of smell went hand in hand with an enhanced sense of hearing, so jerking off was off the table unless he wanted to humiliate himself completely. 

Stiles sighed mournfully. He really could have used the dose of endorphins.

#

Derek tried to concentrate on his work-out and switched from doing push-ups to doing sit-ups, but the change in position made him look at the bathroom door every time he raised his upper body.

He could hear Stiles in the bathroom. With the scent of Stiles' pheromones still thick in the air, the wet slide of skin against skin he could hear from behind the door was alluring even though he knew Stiles wasn't doing anything besides washing himself. He tried not to picture Stiles naked, but he was fighting a losing battle. Stiles, Derek imagined, would be the type to make a production out of jerking off. He wouldn't try to bring himself off quickly to take care of his morning wood. He'd be the type to tease himself, run his hands over his skin, pinch his nipples, lean back against the cool tiles and then gasp at the contrast of the cold tiles and the hot water. 

A muttered curse brought Derek out of his fantasy. Inside the bathroom, Stiles and his slippery wet fingers were fighting with his shampoo bottle, and as much as Derek wanted to strip off and join Stiles in the shower, he couldn't. Stiles, he was sure, wouldn't turn him away. Stiles would let Derek push him against the wall and drag his tongue over his neck, baring his throat with barely any hesitation.

His pants uncomfortably tight, Derek stood up and grabbed his shirt. 

Twenty-four hours ago he'd been prepared - _badly_ prepared, but definitely determined - to kill Stiles. Stiles had no idea who he really was or what he was ready to do to save his sister, but there was no doubt in Derek's mind that any chance he had with Stiles would be a thing of the past the moment Stiles found out why Derek was at the cabin in the first place. If he had sex with Stiles now, Stiles would feel even more betrayed when he found out. If there was one thing Derek knew, it was how much a betrayal like that stung. How it lingered and defined you even years later. 

Derek took a deep breath. 

_Alpha. Beta. Omega._

He needed to figure out what to do now that he'd blown his chance to get the money to save Cora. Killing Stiles was no longer an option - apart from being his chance to put Kate behind bars, Stiles was innocent. Killing for the sake of killing wasn't something that appealed to Derek. On hunts with his family, back when they were all alive, it was always the chase that excited him, not the game they were trying to bring down. He didn't join the military to let out his aggressions; he joined up because he wanted to protect people. 

_Alpha. Beta. Omega._

Derek took another deep breath and closed his eyes. He'd figure it out. 

Cora's tests were paid for - once they knew what was wrong with her, he could figure out a way to help her get better. 

Stiles was going to sort through his evidence and they would put Kate in prison where she belonged. 

Firmly back in control of himself, Derek grabbed his jacket and knocked on the bathroom door. "Stiles! I'm going to get breakfast. Don't go anywhere, don't tell anyone where we are and don't open the door for anyone!" 

Derek waited for Stiles' grumbled reply ("Yeah, yeah, I'm not five - I know not to talk to strangers! And bring me back a cinnamon roll!") and then left the hotel room.

#

The room's crappy, uncomfortable desk chair creaked when Stiles leaned back and stretched. Stiles straightened back up and closed his laptop with a frustrated sigh. His burner phone was in his hand before he could think about how early it was. The phone rang six times before someone picked up on the other end.

"Stiles?" 

"Hey, Dad," Stiles said. "Sorry if I woke you up." 

"I wasn't asleep," his dad said. "Scott and Allison stopped by yesterday. We drove up to the city to get your evidence. I barely managed to get Scott and Allison to lie down for a bit, but we've all been up for an hour looking through things. Stiles…" His dad trailed off, sighing.

Stiles echoed his dad's sigh. "I know, Dad. I just looked through everything myself. It's all circumstantial. Nothing specific that would tie any of this to Kate or Matt." 

"I'm still going to talk to the DA," his dad said. "It should still be enough to start an investigation." 

"Yeah, but with a good lawyer - and with the kind of money the Argents have, they can afford the very best of lawyers - they'll be acquitted faster than you can say circumstantial. I doubt they'd be stupid enough to leave any evidence for us to find. It's been two days - any evidence that might have been there two days ago has been destroyed by now." 

"I agree." 

"You know what that means, Dad." 

"Now, Stiles, don't do anything rash. Let me talk to the DA first."

"Dad--"

"Promise me, Stiles," his dad interrupted him. "You let me talk to the DA first. It'll be a lot safer - and a lot more admissible in court - if we do this the right way." 

Stiles sighed. "Okay, fine. I promise." 

"Thank you," his dad said. "Now, Melissa wants to know if you need us to send anything up to the cabin. There should be enough canned food, but you know how she is." 

"About that," Stiles said. "I'm not actually at the cabin anymore."

"What? What happened?"

"Now, I want you to stay calm, Dad. I'm fine," Stiles said. "But there was an incident. I'm pretty sure the cabin is trashed - I had some surprise visitors there yesterday." 

"Visitors?"

"The hired killer kind of visitors," Stiles admitted. 

"Stiles! Are you okay?"

"Yes! I told you I was fine," Stiles said. "Derek saved me from the killer twins and we're holed up in the city right now." 

"Derek? Who's Derek?" 

"Um, Derek Hale? He's doing, I don't know, private security or something. He's from Beacon Hills, too. You might remember him from the Hale fire fifteen, twenty years ago." 

"Derek Hale," his dad said slowly. "I think I remember. Most of the family died, only Derek and a few others made it out." 

"Yeah, that's him." 

"And he just showed up and helped you? I don't like it, Stiles." 

"It's fine," Stiles said automatically. His dad's suspicions only help to make Stiles acknowledge to himself what he'd secretly suspected all along. Nobody had hired Derek to help him. If Derek had been hired at all, it probably wasn't to help Stiles. But on the other hand, Derek _had_ helped him. He'd saved his life at the risk of his own sister. 

"Is it?" his dad asked. "Because Derek Hale disappeared from town shortly after the fire and the only time I saw him after that was at his uncle's execution where he took up the mantle as the Hale alpha. If he's back now, how can you be sure he's on your side?"

"He saved my life, Dad. Trust me. He's on leave from his unit to visit his sister and he was just at the right place at the right time," Stiles said, crossing his fingers. His dad would only worry if Stiles told him his own conclusions about Derek's mysterious appearance. Stiles was relatively sure that Derek would continue to help him as long as he could guarantee that Kate Argent would go down. Derek's need for revenge against Kate worked in Stiles' favor.

"All right, if you're sure." 

"I'm sure, Dad. Derek is helping me."

"Okay, but be careful, Stiles. And remember - don't do anything stupid." 

"I promised, didn't I? I'll call you again tomorrow." 

"All right. Love you, son." 

"I love you, too, Dad."

#

Her father strode into her office without knocking and Kate gritted her teeth against that blatant show of disrespect. Gerard didn't say anything, he simply held the door open and looked at Matt expectantly.

Matt, oblivious in the worst possible ways, was still scribbling notes on his clipboard. 

"Matt!" Kate growled, jerking her head towards the door. "Get out!"

Matt looked up, startled, and then beat a hasty retreat. Gerard closed the door behind him, sending Kate a disapproving look. "Really, Katie? Pick an assistant with a brain next. A pretty face might be easy on the eyes, but it's not enough to get the job done." Gerard lowered himself into the chair Matt had been sitting in a minute ago. "Although you always did have trouble with that yourself, didn't you?" 

"About as much as you, Dad," Kate said sweetly, giving her smile just enough edge to get her point across. 

Her dad narrowed his eyes, but before he could say anything, Kate stood up and crossed her arms. "Why did you send another team? I'm a grown woman, Dad! I can do my job just fine - I don't need you stepping in like I'm still thirteen and don't know which end of the gun to point at people." 

"Yet clearly you're being led around by your hormones!" Gerard said, tilting his head back to look at her. The movement should have given her the advantage - her towering over him, him having to bare his throat to look at her - but Gerard's words made her feel small, like they so often did. "There was no reason to hire that filth - if you want to play, do it on your own time, not when our family and our mission is at risk." 

"Or maybe I just had the right vision and without your interference, it would have worked!" Kate hissed angrily. "Maybe it's time to go back to the old ways. The women have always been the leaders in this family, haven't they?" 

"Know your place, Katie," Gerard said mildly. "If anything, your brother's wife would be our leader. And Allison after her." 

"Allison!" Kate scoffed. "Chris did the wrong thing, bringing her up as he did. Letting her date a werewolf - an alpha no less - in high school was a mistake. Her head is filled with nonsense." 

Gerard inclined his head. "That, my dear, we can agree on. But Allison is still young and pliable. Once the first wave of the plague has been wiped out, she'll be re-educated." 

"We'd need to get rid of the boyfriend first." 

Gerard smiled. "I believe Victoria already has a plan for that one, and it does not involve marrying into the family." 

They shared an amused chuckle and Kate sat back down, leaning forward. "Look, Dad, I know you meant well, but obviously your guys weren't up to the challenge either. We can try to push the blame for that on each other, or we work together and take care of this problem once and for all." 

Gerard hesitated for a second. Then he nodded slowly. "What do you have in mind?"

"I'm sure Derek is protecting Stiles," Kate said. "I don't know why, but your guys said he was helping him. If he's still with Stiles, we can use that to our advantage." 

"How so?"

"Because," Kate said, a wolfish grin stretching over her face, "we have something he loves."

#

"You're on the news," Derek said when he opened the door, tossing a paper bag at Stiles.

Stiles flailed a little in surprise, but managed to catch the bag without dropping or destroying anything, namely his breakfast or his laptop. With a glare in Derek's direction, Stiles grabbed the TV remote and switched on the television, flicking through the channels until he found a news report. 

On the TV, Kate and Gerard were talking to a reporter. All three of them wore somber expressions. The reporter's canary yellow blouse was the only spot of color in the picture, Gerard and Kate opting for all black ensembles. Stiles listened for a few minutes, his anger rising when Kate explained that they'd had such a good working relationship, his betrayal felt like a personal attack against her and her family. When Kate mentioned that her niece Allison - a close friend of Stiles - was devastated to hear about his actions, Stiles turned the TV off in disgust. His first instinct was to call Allison and make sure she didn't think he was guilty. But Allison was with Scott and his dad. She knew he hadn't done anything wrong. 

She had to know. 

"They've had your picture up earlier," Derek said, biting into a cinnamon roll. "It's not just the cops now who know your face." 

Stiles dug into the paper bag from the bakery, pulling out a roll for himself. He shrugged and took a large bite out of his roll. "It was only a matter of time," he said. "Right now, they can say whatever they want about me and get away with it because I look guilty. I'm the perfect scapegoat. The public doesn't know any better, the police are after me and it's my design - they can pin everything on me."

"You have a laptop full of evidence," Derek pointed out. 

Stiles sighed, spilling a few crumbs down his front. He brushed them away and shook his head. "I don't. I have bits and pieces that prove someone was doing something illegal, but I can't directly connect it to Kate. I could make a case that Matt - her assistant - is involved, but it wouldn't guarantee that Kate goes down for anything. She could claim not to know about any of it and with the kinds of lawyers she can afford, she'd get away with it." 

Derek's nostrils flared and Stiles forgot to breathe for a second. Derek was only helping him to get Kate arrested and he just blurted out that he didn't have anything on her. Before he could backpedal and say that he'd find a way to see justice served, Derek's shoulders relaxed and he sat down on his bed. 

"Then why don't you turn yourself in to the cops? Tell your story. They'd have to investigate your claims." 

"It's been two days. Kate and Gerard probably have an army of people deleting and destroying every last bit of evidence as we speak, and the most the cops would find is more evidence that implicates _me_ ," Stiles said bitterly. "If the cops even believe me in the first place! Maybe they'll give me the guilty stamp right away and don't even bother to investigate anything." He shrugged. "Besides, I doubt I'd live long enough to ever see a judge, considering AWI is one of the most successful companies in the world and Kate and Gerard make more money in a month than I do in a whole year."

"Not all cops are dirty," Derek said. "This is a big case. High profile means lots of media attention. I don't think they could afford losing their suspect-slash-witness before the case is closed properly." 

Stiles snorted. "Did I mention the millions and millions of dollars they make every year? And the way that can buy you all sorts of professional help? Like computer guys who conveniently introduce a glitch to the system - or even ones that make it look like _I_ destroyed evidence and messed with the security feeds? These people already hired professional killers to take me out, so excuse me if I don't trust I'll be safe in the custody of police officers who might or might not be on Kate and Gerard's payroll."

Derek flinched minutely at the mention of professional killers. Stiles wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been glaring at Derek, and it only confirmed all of his suspicions. "Anyway," Stiles continued, pushing aside any thoughts of Derek being hired to kill him. "I don't want to be on the run for the rest of my life. I'd like to talk to my dad without using code and disposable cell phones. I want to have my life back." 

"But you said it yourself, Stiles, you have no proof."

"Which means I'll have to get a confession on tape." 

"You don't mean--"

"Oh yeah. I need to meet with the Argents."

#

The next twenty-four hours passed slowly.

Stiles restlessly flipped through the fourteen TV channels available at the motel and eventually settled on a Cary Grant movie, but the story couldn't hold his attention for long. He had his laptop, but he didn't dare log on to any of his social media accounts and there were only so many minutes he could scroll through funny cat pictures before he was ready to throw the entire laptop against the wall. Usually, if he was bored or stressed, Stiles took a timeout and relieved some tension, but with a werewolf roommate on the other bed, there was no chance of that happening. 

Derek, on the other hand, seemed absolutely fine with waiting. He watched the rest of the movie and then dug a battered old paperback novel out of his duffel bag, settling back against the headboard to read. He didn't move at all for the next three hours except to shoot glares at Stiles when he fidgeted too much. 

By noon on the first day, Stiles was climbing the walls. He started talking, telling Derek about Scott and their epic friendship, the hardships they went through after Scott was bitten and the long journey until Scott found his balance. He didn't mention the part where Derek's uncle Peter was the alpha that started it all, telling himself that Derek was smart enough to put two and two together and come up with four, considering that Stiles and Scott were from Beacon Hills and he'd been called there on account of his uncle going rogue. Derek kept quiet at first, his only concession to Stiles being that he put down his novel and listened without making it seem like he had better things to do. 

Another few hours later, Stiles needed to give his voice a rest and unearthed a deck of cards hidden in the bottom drawer of his bedside table. The only card game that they both knew was Go Fish, and Derek won every single hand. Stiles accused him of using his werewolf powers to cheat and catch Stiles whenever he was lying about the cards in his hand. Derek in turn pointed out that lying about the cards was cheating as well, and things devolved into a discussion about cheating and strategy and how using werewolf powers was "extra cheating", according to Stiles. 

To Stiles' great surprise, the discussion seemed to put Derek in a talking mood and they shared stories about their families, friends and co-workers until Stiles' stomach started rumbling. Dinner consisted of sandwiches and canned soup, heated up on the small camping stove Derek brought up from his car. 

After dinner, they fell quiet, each lost in their own thoughts. When Stiles fell asleep, Derek switched off the TV and turned off the lights. It took him longer to fall asleep. Stiles' babbling over the course of the day had distracted Derek from thinking about Cora too much, but it hadn't stopped him from worrying about Stiles and the fact that Derek still hadn't told him the truth. Every moment he waited to tell Stiles gave things a chance to go wrong. If Stiles found out in the wrong moment or the wrong way, things could get ugly really quickly. At the same time Derek couldn't really figure out a way to tell Stiles without alienating him. They shared a few really intimate stories - a byproduct of sharing such a small space for an extended period of time during a high-stress situation. The same thing happened with his team when they were on extended patrols. Tensions ran high, but there was no way to let off steam or to wind down, so people started talking, sharing stories and secrets. 

With a sigh, Derek turned on his side, away from Stiles, and willed himself to fall asleep.

#

"…told you I was fine, Dad," Stiles said.

Derek blinked, cursing internally when he realized it was after eight in the morning already and he hadn't even heard Stiles get up. 

Stiles was showered and dressed, sitting on his bed with his phone pressed to his ear. "Now tell me what's new. Did you talk to the DA?" 

Derek only felt mildly guilty for focusing his hearing so that he could hear both sides of the conversation.

"I drove into the city yesterday, yes," Stiles' dad said.

Stiles frowned. "That's not an answer." 

"I drove into the city, but I didn't go to the DA's office," Sheriff Stilinski admitted. "On my way there, I noticed that someone was tailing me. I don't know how long they'd been tailing me, so I headed downtown and ran some errands. I'm going to try again later today, and this time I'll make sure no one is following me." 

"Right," Stiles said. "That's a good plan." 

They chatted for a few more minutes, about Scott and the fact that the sheriff would release everything he had to the press if Stiles didn't contact him again in twenty-four hours, but Derek was only listening with one ear. Stiles looked peaky all of a sudden, like he was sick to his stomach. 

"Are you okay?" he asked as Stiles hung up the phone and drew his knees up to his chest to wrap his arms around them. 

Stiles didn't answer. 

"Stiles?"

Stiles was unresponsive, his breath coming in short pants and his heart beating almost three times its usual speed. 

Derek was out of his bed and in front of Stiles in the blink of an eye, but then he hesitated. He wasn't a stranger to panic attacks - some of the former members of his unit had panic attacks and Laura, after becoming the alpha, suffered from them occasionally - but everyone reacted differently. Would Stiles calm down if Derek touched him, or would he freak out and panic even more? Would talking to Stiles work? Did he need quiet and darkness or distraction and chatter? 

"Stiles? Stiles, calm down," Derek said, keeping his voice calm and even. "You're having a panic attack, Stiles, but everything is okay right now. I'm not going to hurt you and nobody else knows we're here." 

Stiles violently shook his head. "My dad," he gasped. 

"You don't have to worry about your dad either," Derek said. "He's safe at home right now, and Scott and Allison are with him. He's also a cop - he knows what to do and how to defend himself should anything happen. Besides, the people tailing him were probably police officers, hoping he'd lead them to you. Kate doesn't even know he exists, I'm sure of it."

Stiles kept shaking his head, burying his face in his knees. His arms were tightly wrapped around his legs and Derek could see his knuckles turn white where he'd clenched his fingers in the fabric of his shirt as he hugged himself. Carefully, Derek reached out and put his hands on Stiles' arms, running soothing fingers down to Stiles' hands. 

"Come on, Stiles, relax. You need to calm down," he murmured, slowly coaxing Stiles into releasing his iron grip and uncurling his fingers. "That's it, you're doing great. Just keep breathing and try to relax. Everything's okay. Your dad is just fine." 

Derek kept up a steady stream of encouragements and reminders that Stiles' dad was okay. Once Stiles unclenched his fingers, Derek got him to lie down on his side, stroking over Stiles' hair to calm him down. Stiles' breathing was almost back to normal when he scooted back on the bed and tugged on Derek's sleeve to get him to follow. 

Derek climbed onto the bed and Stiles turned, putting his back to Derek. Carefully, Derek pulled Stiles into his arms and put his hand on Stiles' chest, counting the breaths Stiles' took. 

"Okay?" he asked. 

Stiles nodded, and his heartbeat gradually slowed until he fell asleep. 

Derek was so focused on Stiles' heartbeat that it lulled him to sleep as well.

#

Stiles woke up slowly. He dimly remembered having a panic attack and Derek calming him down. He frowned and opened his eyes, coming face to face with a sleeping Derek. He must have turned around at some point, because Stiles distinctly remembered falling asleep with Derek at his back.

Now Derek's arm was thrown over Stiles' hip, the weight of it reassuring and comforting. Derek's other arm rested on the pillow above their heads. Stiles' arms were curled up between their bodies, resting against Derek's chest. 

Stiles moved his fingers, letting them flutter against Derek’s collarbones until Derek stirred. His eyes still closed, Derek moved his arm from Stiles' hip until his hand rested on Stiles' back. He pulled Stiles closer and then slowly blinked his eyes open. 

"Morning," Stiles said softly.

"Stiles," Derek replied, equally as soft. 

Leaning in to kiss Derek seemed like the natural thing to do. 

Derek's lips were warm and dry and soft and Stiles curled his fingers in the fabric of Derek's shirt to keep him from moving away when the kiss ended. Derek's eyes were closed again and he looked stunningly beautiful in the morning sunlight streaming in through the window behind Stiles. Before Stiles could think about what he was doing, he leaned in again and pressed his lips to Derek's. 

Stiles ran his tongue over his own lips to wet them, then darted in and licked at Derek's lips, moaning quietly when Derek made a soft, appreciative noise and opened his mouth, sliding his hand a little higher on Stiles' back and turning his head so he could deepen their kiss. 

When Derek pulled back, Stiles kept his eyes closed for a moment, pretending he was at home, in his own bed, and not in a motel somewhere on the run from the bad guys and the police.

"This is a really bad idea," Derek murmured. "You just had a panic attack." 

"Had," Stiles pointed out. "I'm okay, thanks to you." 

"We're on the run. People are trying to kill you." 

"Dude! In between the sheer terror of people trying to kill me and running for my life, I did in fact take several seconds to notice your above average level of attractiveness and the abs. Especially your abs." Stiles hummed. "And your legs. And your face. Your shoulders are, like, amazing, okay?" Stiles said, running a hand over the curve of Derek's shoulder. "Your beard is… majestic," Stiles said, rubbing his cheek against Derek's. 

Derek huffed out a laugh, but he rolled onto his back and out of Stiles' loose embrace. 

"Seriously, Derek," Stiles said. "I can multi-task: I can be deadly afraid and horny at the same time."

Derek shook his head. "No, Stiles." 

Stiles sighed, letting the hand he was stretching out to touch Derek fall onto the bed. 

"I'm sorry," Derek said, getting up to pull a set of fresh clothes out of his bag. 

"It's okay," Stiles said. "Maybe, when this is over…" 

Derek's shoulders tensed and he didn't turn around as he softly replied, "Yeah, maybe."

Derek headed into the bathroom to take a shower and Stiles listlessly flipped through the TV channels, trying to find something other than Derek to occupy his thoughts.

#

If the first twenty-four hours passed slowly, the next twenty-four hours passed even slower.

They did the same things as the day before - watched mindless television, played cards and talked - but their interactions carried an undercurrent of mutual attraction that overshadowed everything else. Stories about Stiles' high school days that included ex-boyfriends or ex-girlfriends made Derek turn his head away and concentrate on not letting his eyes flash red. Stiles consciously stopped himself several times from reaching out and touching Derek. Every accidental touch made them pause and exchange regretful glances, but Derek didn't give in to Stiles' pleading eyes. 

He couldn't. 

He felt guilty enough already without adding more guilt on top of it. In any other situation, Derek would make sure to remove himself from the equation, to gain some distance and perspective and put some space between himself and the problem. He couldn't leave Stiles alone, though, not with Kate's minions after his blood and Kate after his head. There was no question that Stiles was in mortal danger, and Derek couldn't abandon him. 

At the same time he couldn't get closer to Stiles without coming clean about what he was sent to do. If he confessed now, Stiles might run and fight him, putting himself in danger and taking any chance for Derek to see Kate behind bars from him. Even if Kate didn't go down for his family's death, she _would_ go down. His family would see justice and maybe, just maybe, he'd be able to breathe freely again. 

For now, though, he averted his eyes as Stiles' gaze caught on his mouth and he blushed, turning away with an apologetic expression on his face and a sigh on his lips.

#

Stiles felt impatient and jittery the next morning. Four more days till the official launch of the mark IV and Stiles was more than ready to put an end to the entire affair. If his dad didn't have good news, Stiles would have to consider breaking his promise.

"Please tell me you spoke to the AD," Stiles said by way of greeting, huffing when his dad countered with a "Good morning to you, too, son. How's the weather?" 

"Daaaad," Stiles said, his voice close to a whine. "I'm going stir-crazy in here. I've done nothing but watch daytime television, get beat at Go Fish by Derek and look at cat pictures online. I can't spend another day like this." 

"Good thing you won't have to then," his dad said, amusement shining through in his voice. 

Across the room, Derek tilted his head, clearly listening in. 

"So you spoke to the DA?"

"I did," his dad confirmed. "I'm not sure she believes the whole story, but she listened to it all and she said she'd be willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, considering she's had her eye on Gerard for a while now." 

"Gerard? For what?" 

"There were some claims a while ago that he was dumping unsafe waste illegally," his dad said. "It was in the papers, but it never went anywhere. Apparently, at least according to the DA, there was some truth to these claims even though they couldn't prove anything." 

"Okay," Stiles said, "so that's good, right? She's willing to listen. That means I can set up a meeting with Kate, get the evidence we need and then send it on to the DA." 

"If you have one talent, son, it's getting people to talk," his dad said. "But be careful. I have no doubt that this is exactly as big as you say it is, which means that Kate is going to be prepared." 

"It'll be fine, Dad. I'll wear a wire, get her confession on tape and that's it."

"No," Derek suddenly said. "No, that's not a good idea."

"Who is that?" his dad asked. "Is that Derek?" 

Stiles ignores him in favor of Derek, frowning at him. "What do you mean, not a good idea? It's the only idea we have!" 

Derek shook his head. "It's too dangerous, going in wired up." 

"It's the only way to prove her involvement for sure," Stiles said. "I thought that's what you wanted: Kate behind bars."

"Yes, but not at the cost of your life!" 

Stiles rolled his eyes, drawing in a long breath to heave a deep sigh, but Derek cut him off.

"No, Stiles, don't roll your eyes at me. This isn't a game. Kate _killed_ people. I don't doubt she'd do it again. Hell, she already tried to have you killed! If you go in and they find any listening or recording devices, they will kill you." 

"No, they won't," Stiles said. "I have enough to destroy their plans even if it's not enough to implicate them. Which they don't know, by the way. If I pretend I just want money and a private plane to South America, they'll listen to me."

"No," Derek argued, "they'll _kill_ you."

"Son? I think Derek might be right about this," his dad said. Stiles ignored him to glare at Derek.

"They won't kill me; not until they know what I know."

Derek pulled a face. "Great, and then what? They find out how much you know and _then_ they will kill you?" 

Stiles sighed in frustration, his hand tightening on the burner phone. "Maybe," he said quietly. "But it's the only way to stop all this. If they ship out the guns designed after these plans, it could kill every single Lycan soldier we have, Derek. Some of the files I have are adapted designs for other uses. Garden hoses and humidifiers and a ton of other household items that could kill civilians by the thousands. Of course, no one will start dropping dead until after a year or so, which is why no one will trace it back to these items and AWI. Who knows if people will even be able to figure out the source! What if the contamination continues indefinitely? I have to take the risk." 

"Son--"

"No, Dad. I get it that you're worried, but this is so much bigger than just me. Lives are at stake here, and if I can do something about it even though it might put my own life in danger, then that's what I have to do."

On the other side of the room, Derek's shoulders slumped and he leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes. 

Stiles turned away and finished the call to his dad. He had a meeting with a mass-murdering criminal to set up.

#

Despite his calm conviction earlier, Stiles' hands shook as he punched in Kate's number and then hit the dial button. The phone rang four times until it was picked up and Stiles nearly froze up at the sound of Kate's cool voice on the other end.

"Hello?" 

Stiles cleared his throat. "Kate." 

"Stiles," Kate said after a short pause. "I honestly wasn't expecting you to call." 

"Yeah, well," Stiles said. "Unusual circumstances and all that." 

Kate chuckled and Stiles felt like throwing up. Derek shuffled a little closer and put his hand on Stiles' back. Stiles relaxed a little. 

"So," he said, "I think we should talk." 

"Oh, but about what, Stiles? Shouldn't you be turning yourself in to the police? You're a wanted criminal," Kate said, her tone mocking. 

"Yeah, that doesn't really appeal to me, all things considered," he said. "A private conversation, somewhere public, could be much more beneficial to the both of us." 

"Oh?" Kate said. Her tone had changed from mocking to bored, and Stiles felt a flare of anger. 

"Yeah," he said, unable to keep the dry sarcasm out of his voice, "considering I'd like to keep breathing and you'd probably like to stay out of prison." 

"Of course I'd be more than happy to meet with you, Stiles, if only to try and convince you to turn yourself in," Kate said. 

"Tomorrow, two pm," Stiles said. "Meet me at the coffee shop across from the train station's East entrance." 

"I'll be there," Kate said. 

"Come alone," Stiles instructed. "No funny business." 

"Sure thing, sweetie," Kate said, laughing. "I'll be there with bells on." 

Stiles' anger ticked up a notch. Before, when she'd just been his boss, Stiles had dealt with her sometimes condescending demeanor just fine. Now that his life depended partly on not pissing Kate off, Stiles found it harder to swallow. He angrily hit the end call button and leaned back into Derek's touch, barely keeping from throwing the phone against the wall. 

"I swear, there's nothing I'd like more than to see Kate Argent behind bars," he pressed out, gritting his teeth. 

"I know the feeling," Derek said. He pulled his hand away and stepped back, shifting his eyes to a point beside Stiles' head. "We're almost out of food, and someone will have to get the surveillance equipment. You stay here. Don't go anywhere, don't tell anyone where you are and don't--"

"--open the door," Stiles finished. "Yes, I'm not actually five years old. I do know we're on the run." 

"Sorry," Derek apologized. 

"It's fine. Go get the stuff we need. The sooner we have everything arranged, the better." 

Derek nodded and grabbed his jacket.

#

Kate hung up the phone and turned to Matt, snapping her fingers when he didn't immediately react.

"Well?" she asked. "Spit it out." 

"I managed to trace it to a three block radius," Matt said, turning the laptop so she could see the highlighted area on a street map of the Northern part of Beacon City.

"Excellent," Kate said, absently patting Matt's arm. "Print that out for me, will you?" 

Matt scurried out of the room and Kate picked up her phone again. "Good news, Dad. I just made the twins' job a lot easier. Are they still downstairs, waiting for instructions?" 

"They are," Gerard said. "I haven't had time to talk to them yet - the media circus outside is ridiculous, and I've been in meetings all morning. Local police, federal investigator, military contractors, government representatives. Everyone is naturally very concerned about this case of espionage and they all hope to move on in the investigations as quickly as possible. A sentiment I quite share." 

"So do I, Dad, and we're one step closer to getting rid of the first problem on our list. We'll have this cleared up by the weekend," Kate said. "Don't worry."

"Oh, I know we'll come out on top, Kate. We're Argents - we always do." 

Kate laughed. "Right you are, Daddy." 

"Go make your father proud," Gerard said. "I have to go and reassure our investors that the future of AWI is not in danger after this incident." 

Kate hung up the phone and stood up. She locked her office and found Matt hurrying back along the corridor, a stack of glossy printed map excerpts clutched in his hands. She took the printouts and sent him along the way, using her key card to make the elevator go straight down into the lobby. 

The twins, dressed in jeans and t-shirts, stuck out like sore thumbs among the men and women in tailored suits and business attire that frequented the AWI headquarters lobby. "Gentlemen," Kate said, "please follow me." 

Kate headed back into the elevator, smirking when the twins exchanged a suspicious look before following her. She handed the printouts to the nearest twin and then pushed the button for the parking garage. "The highlighted area is where you'll find your target. He'll most likely be with Hale - the alpha who helped him before." 

Kate held out her hand, offering the other twin two cell phones. "The red phone's yours. My number is programmed in - call me when you find them. The black phone is for Hale. I need to have a private word with him." 

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Kate nodded at the parking garage and held up the keys to one of the AWI company cars. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

#

Derek was on his way back from the diner when he noticed that someone was tailing him. Keeping his steps even and unhurried, he reached the Camaro and dropped the bag of takeout on the passenger seat. He walked around the car and opened the trunk, waiting until the prickling sensation in the back of his neck was too strong to ignore.

Derek whirled around, grabbing the person standing behind him by the throat. 

It was one of the twins, an amused smirk playing on his lips even as his eyes flared red. 

Derek felt his own eyes light up at the unspoken challenge and tightened his grip. 

The ringing of a phone broke their staring contest. 

"You should probably get that," the twin pressed out, his voice scratchy and uneven due to the pressure Derek put on his throat. He held up a small black phone whose screen lit up every time the phone rang. 

Derek grabbed the phone. "What do you want?" 

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, Derek," Kate tutted. "Is that any way to talk to an old girlfriend?" 

"What do you want?" Derek asked again, less friendly. 

Kate sighed. "So many things, Handsome. But let's start with something simple. Stiles and I will meet in a slightly different location… my house. I'm always so much more comfortable in my own space, filled with all my things and memories. You know what I mean?" Kate chuckled. "Oops, I guess you don't. How insensitive of me. I heard about the terrible tragedy that happened to your family home. And your family." 

Derek couldn't even form words. The moment he tried to say anything, all that came out was a deep growl. 

"Now, now, Derek, play nice," Kate said. "Tomorrow, you'll make sure Stiles gets here and that any recording devices he has on him aren't working. You'll make sure no one follows you and you won't tell him of our small change of plans - my two friends will be keeping an eye on you two to make sure of it."

"And why should I? I want to see you go down as much as he does." 

Kate laughed. "Oh, Derek, still as impulsive as ever. Well, Darling, here's the thing. When we were testing our little …surprise, we needed some healthy young werewolves as test subjects. Doctor Blake has been invaluable during the testing phase and she's still collecting results for us." 

Derek felt his insides grow cold. "Cora…" 

"That's right, Darling. Dear little sister Cora and her mystery illness… Well, let's just say that if you decide to break my rules, little Cora is going to take a sudden turn for the worse, slip into a really deep coma and then die at a tragically young age." 

"You monster--" 

"Ah, ah," Kate interrupted. "I think we both know who the monster is between us." 

Derek gritted his teeth. Kate's voice held an edge of seduction, the honey-smooth quality he'd fallen for hook, line and sinker as a teenager. He knew fully well who the real monster was between the two of them, but Derek held his tongue, not willing to risk Cora's life because he felt the need to taunt Kate until she lost her temper. 

"Do we have a deal?" 

"Deal," he said. "And when it's over, you leave Cora and me alone." 

"Sure thing, Darling. Nice doing business with you."

Kate hung up with a laugh and Derek tossed the phone back at the alpha twin. 

"Just so you know," he said, "my brother and I will be right across the courtyard, keeping an eye on you. One step out of line, and your little pet human is dead." 

Instead of saying anything, Derek simply lifted his upper lip in a snarl and turned away. He climbed into his car and left the twin standing at the curb.

#

Derek going out cut down on the nearly unbearable tension in the air, but it also left Stiles with nothing to do but stare at the walls and try the television again in the hope that maybe something worth watching would be showing.

There wasn't.

After two days of intermittently watching bad daytime television, nothing on the 14 channels available caught Stiles' attention for more than a couple of minutes. Turning the TV off in disgust, Stiles jumped up and wandered around the hotel room, touching this and that in an effort to find something to occupy his mind and escape the boredom that threatened to settle on him. Both desk drawers were empty, but the top drawer of his bedside table held a Gideon bible and a collection of pens (all out of ink) and pencils (all worn down to stubs with broken tips). Stiles slammed the drawer shut and his eyes fell on the deck of cards lying on the covers of Derek's bed. 

After a quick and unsatisfying round of Solitaire, Stiles put the cards down and threw himself onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. For someone with a somewhat limited social life, Stiles rarely had time to feel bored during the day. It was a good thing, Stiles decided, that he was such a workaholic. Too much free time sucked. With nothing else to do, his mind went into overdrive, whirring away even faster than usual. 

Stiles groaned and grabbed the pillow from under his head, pressing it to his face and letting out a frustrated scream. 

Derek and his unfair attractiveness and his _morals_. He could be making out with a hot werewolf to pass the time until his hopefully quick and easy triumph over Kate (or his ugly and bloody defeat, but no one liked a Debbie Downer). Instead, Derek was getting food in order to avoid Stiles and Stiles was left with the memory of Derek's taste in his mouth and Derek's lips on his. 

Stiles was a realist. Derek was way out of his league, stationed overseas and doing questionable things (probably) to save his sister's life. Stiles was several points below Derek in hotness, he had a price on his head and his number one activity to do on the weekends was play video games with Scott. No matter which way he twisted things, Stiles couldn't see him and Derek enter into a long-term relationship and make it work. He knew it was a bad idea to start something while they were both under a lot of pressure. Until Kate was behind bars, Stiles was in mortal danger. They couldn't afford the distraction of a new relationship, even one based mostly on physical attraction. 

But Derek and his fucking beard. Stiles could still feel it under his fingertips, so soft and warm. Stiles' brain was no longer in post-panic mode and his thoughts were clear. He knew it wouldn't be a good idea, but he still _wanted_ Derek. 

Ultimately there was only one thing Stiles could do, the same thing he did every time he had a crisis: he called Scott.

"Stiles! Are you supposed to be making phone calls?" 

Stiles shrugged. "Eh." 

"This isn't going to bring killers to your doorstep, is it? Because if it is, I'm hanging up." 

Stiles rolled his eyes. "It's fine, Scott. Nobody knows this number but my dad. Nobody knows this is my phone. We're safe." 

Scott sighed in relief. "Okay, what do you need?"

"Nothing, I'm just calling."

"Bullshit," Scott said. "You don't call people just to talk when you're caught up in your very own action movie."

"My life is not an action movie," Stiles replied. "Not enough explosions, for one. Considering there weren't any explosions, there should be more nudity." 

"Nudity? Stiles, you're on the run from Kate _and_ the police. When did you have time for nudity?" 

Stiles sighed heavily. "Did Dad mention this guy who saved my life, Derek Hale?"

"You got naked with the guy who saved your life?" 

"We did not get naked together," Stiles said. "But he took his shirt off to work out. Man, you should see his back when he's doing push-ups - his muscled ripple like--"

"Stiles, no," Scott said, his voice sounding a little strangled.

Stiles laughed. "Well, remember how you're always telling me to go out and meet people?" 

"Stiles, no," Scott repeated.

"What? I'm a workaholic. I spend all of my free time with you and Allison. I need to take any chance I can get. Seriously, you should see Derek without his shirt on. And he has this beard - I just want to sit there and stroke it for an hour or ten. It's so soft and his jaw line is so strong and he has adorable front teeth." 

"Stiles, you saw Speed. I know you did because you made me watch it like fourteen times. High stress situations don't make a good relationship basis."

"I knoooow," Stiles whined. "But I think we're both crazy enough that it could work. Derek has this super focused intense thing going on, and you know how persistent I can be. Together, we could do it. Plus, I think Derek was originally hired to kill me, so I'm pretty sure he actually likes me."

After a moment of silence, Scott shouted, "WHAT?!" into the phone. Stiles nearly dropped it at the sudden rise in volume.

"Well, he just showed up at the cabin and saved my life from the murder twins. Said someone hired him, but he didn't tell me who or what exactly he was hired for. The only people who would hire someone to protect me are you and Dad, and neither of you even knew about Derek until I told you. Derek was kind of shifty about it, too, so it's not like it's a total stretch of the imagination to put two and two together and come up with hired assassin." 

"Stiles," Scott said, keeping his tone low and even in a way that meant he was trying to control a ton of anger. "Why are you still talking to me? Get out of there now! That guy could kill you!"

"Don't be so dramatic," Stiles said. "He could have killed me several times in the last few days. I had a panic attack this morning and he calmed me down and cuddled with me until I could breathe again. I told you he likes me."

"Stiles…"

"Look, even if he secretly hates me, he hates Kate Argent more. He seriously wants to see her behind bars, and I'm his best bet," Stiles said. "But I really think he likes me." 

"This is so wrong," Scott said. Stiles could hear him starting to pace. "This is such a bad idea, Stiles." 

Stiles shrugged, forgetting for a second that Scott couldn't see him. "I'm putting myself out there again, just like you wanted. Be proud of me, Scott, not a worrywart."

"You are the worst," Scott said. "The actual worst. You're giving me high blood pressure. I hate you."

"Pah! You love me," Stiles argued. 

"And I have no idea why," Scott said. "Stiles, you're not serious. You can't just--"

"Relax," Stiles said with a sigh. "Derek and I already had this conversation earlier today. We decided it wasn't a good idea. Wrong timing, bad situation, people out to kill me."

"You'll be happy about it later when they arrest Derek for being a professional killer!"

Stiles rolled his eyes. "He's a soldier, not a killer. I'm pretty sure he needed the money to pay his sister's medical bills. Plus, he didn't actually kill me - he _saved_ me."

Scott didn't say anything. 

Stiles swallowed against the lump rising in his throat. "Look, Scott, I know it sounds crazy, but when I look at Derek, I can see a connection there. It might not go anywhere - in fact, it probably won't because you are right about that Speed analogy; this is a bad idea that'll only lead to heartbreak and tears and a bad sequel on a cruise ship - but I can't not take the chance. If Derek gives me one, that is." 

"I just hope you know what you're doing, Stiles," Scott said softly. 

Stiles briefly closed his eyes, overcome by the sudden wish to see Scott in person. He needed a bro hug. 

"Allison is making faces at me," Scott said after a moment. "She wants to talk to you." 

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut until he saw bursts of light under his eyelids. "Put her on," he said, opening his eyes. 

"Stiles!" 

"Allison! I swear to god, I'm not a traitor!" 

"I--I know that, Stiles," Allison said. "And I believe you. It's just…"

"It's your family," Stiles said. 

"Scott likes to point out that you're family, too. And he's right. I've known you for almost fifteen years, Stiles. I don't want to believe that my family is involved in anything illegal, but I don't believe that you are, either. You're Stiles. You're the goofy idiot who steals my emergency cookies and thinks I won't notice."

Stiles made a face. "You know about that, huh?" 

"Yeah, Stiles," Allison said, amusement coloring her voice, "I know about that. I don't mind. You replace them - not always right away, but quickly enough." Allison sighed. "Look, you might be Scott's brother, but you're my family, too. We'll get to the bottom of this and then you can come home, okay? We all miss you. Scott is walking around like someone took away his favorite toy and your dad keeps sighing every few minutes and Melissa keeps making lists. We all want you to come home."

Stiles smiled sadly. It was nice to know his family missed him, even though it didn't feel too good to know they were hurting. Stiles was about to reply and reassure Allison when the door suddenly opened and Stiles jumped, the tension leaving his body once he recognized Derek. 

Frowning, Stiles took in Derek's appearance. He looked frazzled and a little crazy, with an intent look in his eyes. 

Stiles felt his mouth go dry. "Hey Ally?" he interrupted her. "I'm gonna have to call you back later, okay? Something's come up."

Stiles hung up the phone and stared as Derek dropped the bags on the floor next to the door and shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it onto his bed as he stalked over to Stiles. 

"Derek?" 

Derek shook his head and leaned down, putting one hand on the bed beside Stiles for balance. Stiles watched with large eyes as Derek slowly leaned in, putting his cheek next to Stiles'. 

"Ugh," Stiles said intelligently, tilting his head to the side as Derek moved down, dragging his nose over Stiles' neck before licking along his throat. Stiles had his hand buried in Derek's hair, offering silent encouragement, before he even realized it. 

"Wait!" Stiles said, pulling back a little. "Not that I'm not enjoying this, but what happened to this being a bad idea?" 

Derek shrugged, smirking when Stiles' gaze lingered on Derek's shoulders. 

"I changed my mind," he simply said. "Unless you…?" 

"No!" Stiles said quickly. "I'm good. With anything."

"Good," Derek said. He put his hand flat on Stiles' chest and pushed. Stiles went with the motion, letting Derek push him down until he was lying flat on his back. 

Derek moved his hand to the side, his fingertips skimming over one of Stiles' nipples. Stiles moaned, arching into the fleeting touch, but Derek's hand moved on, fisting in the fabric of his shirt to pull it up and over his head. 

"What do you want?" Derek asked, tossing Stiles' shirt to the floor. "What do you like?" 

"My nipples," Stiles said. "I really like it when--"

He cut himself off with a choked moan as Derek flicked his thumbs over Stiles' nipples.

"Sensitive, huh?" Derek said. 

Stiles' only answer was a low whine as Derek leaned over and rubbed his cheek over one of his nipples, the beard scratching and tickling at the same time. 

"Oh my god, Derek, you're killing me here," Stiles said, catching his breath. "Also, we need to be a lot more naked or this is going to be a total flashback to high school when I was making out with my friend Heather and she did this thing with her tongue and I went off like a rocket and ruined my jeans." 

Derek raised his head from Stiles' chest and sent him a mischievous look. Then his tongue flickered out and he licked over one of Stiles' nipples, running his tongue around the little bud while he scratched his nail over the other one. 

Stiles' hips bucked up, seeking contact, but Derek was half-sitting, half-leaning on the bed beside him, the position denying him the friction he desperately needed. 

"Get up here," Stiles demanded, tugging at Derek's arm to get him to move onto the bed. "And lose the shirt."

Derek laughed and climbed onto the bed, straddling Stiles' thighs. He sat up and took off his shirt, leaving Stiles to stare at the play of muscles under his skin with a hungry look in his eyes. His hand twitched with the need to reach out and touch Derek's perfect abs. That's when Stiles realized he didn't need to stop himself from reaching out and putting his hands on Derek's stomach. 

Derek let himself fall forward, catching himself on his hands so he didn't crush Stiles. 

"Finally," Stiles muttered, his hands brushing over Derek's sides and down to his jean-covered ass. "Your ass is amazing." 

"Yours isn't too bad either," Derek said. "But right now I'm more interested in this," he added, rolling his hips into Stiles. 

They both moaned at the contact and Stiles scrambled to get his hands between their bodies to open their jeans. He unzipped his jeans and pushed them down to mid-thigh. Any further and he would have to ask Derek to get off of him first, but Stiles had priorities and Derek on top of him was number one on the current list. Derek was wearing jeans with a button fly and Stiles groaned in frustration. 

"I can't reach the other buttons," he said. "That's a problem because we still need to be more naked." 

"Let me," Derek said, sitting back up. 

Stiles frowned. Derek getting off of him wasn't part of the plan. His expression changed to one of naked need, however, when Derek leaned back far enough that his crotch was pushed forward and the muscles in his stomach stood out with an effort to keep himself from toppling backwards. He slowly unbuttoned each button, revealing tight black boxer briefs. Derek pushed his jeans down as far as he could while straddling Stiles' thighs.

"Jesus Christ," Stiles breathed. "Were you a porn star in a former life?"

The sight of Derek's cock, hard and straining against the soft cotton, made Stiles' mouth water. He reached for the elastic of Derek's boxer briefs, only to have his hand caught by Derek, Derek's fingers tangling with his. 

Looking up, Stiles swallowed against the intense look in Derek's eyes. 

Keeping the eye contact, Derek tugged at Stiles' boxers one-handedly, pulling them down far enough until he could close his hand around Stiles' cock. Stiles moaned when Derek's fist closed around his shaft, lazily stroking up and down. He felt his eyes drift shut, but fought to keep his eyes open. Derek still hadn't looked away and Stiles felt mesmerized, like there was something more going on than a couple of guys who barely knew each other letting off some steam. 

Derek eventually broke the eye contact, letting his gaze fall down to Stiles' crotch. Stiles felt Derek's gaze like a caress, his skin heating up as another rush of blood to his cock made him even harder. 

Derek scooted back a little and leaned down. 

Stiles moaned in anticipation before Derek's mouth was even on him. Just the thought of Derek's lips closing around the head of his cock made Stiles' eyes roll back. His hips jerked when he felt Derek's beard brush against his thigh and Derek's hand briefly tightened around his in response. Then all thought left Stiles' brain and he floated on a wave of sensation as Derek put his free hand on Stiles' stomach to keep him still and started licking and sucking at Stiles' cock, tracing imaginary lines with his tongue and kissing and sucking any parts he could reach. 

The closer Stiles got to what was sure to be a mind-blowing orgasm, the more he wanted Derek to slow down and to draw out their love-making. Stiles tugged at Derek's hand, raising his head to check if Derek was responding to his unspoken demands. His plan got derailed, however, as Stiles groaned and squeezed his eyes shut against the overwhelming sight of his cock disappearing between Derek's lips.

"Derek, please come up here," he whined, again tugging on Derek's hand. "As much as I'd love to come down your throat, I kind of want to kiss you more right now."

Derek eased up on the sucking and slowly pulled back, his eyes finding Stiles' as he licked his lips. Stiles didn't know if Derek was teasing him or not; he shot him a dirty look anyway and reached out with his free hand and impatiently motioned for Derek to come closer.

Derek slowly lowered himself, carefully lying on top of Stiles. 

Stiles rolled his eyes at Derek treating him like he was fragile, but he couldn't deny the wave of warmth in his gut at the thought of Derek considering him special enough to be careful with him. Stiles reached up and pushed Derek's hair back from his forehead, lightly scratching his nails over Derek's scalp. Derek made a pleased sound and closed his eyes, bringing their joined hands up to rest above them on the pillow. Stiles shifted and pushed his hips up, hissing when Derek pushed his own hips down. 

Derek's cock was still trapped in its soft cotton prison. When their cocks slid together, it was with a barrier of fabric between them. Stiles was desperate to get rid of it, to have the smooth glide of skin on skin instead of the rougher, less sensuous rasp of skin against damp cotton, but he and Derek were still holding hands and Stiles was loath to remove his other hand from Derek's head, not wanting the blissed-out expression on Derek's face to disappear.

Derek dipped his head, catching Stiles' earlobe between his lips. Stiles squirmed, trying to pull his head away. He knew some people went nuts over having their ears licked or kissed or caressed, but all it did for Stiles was to make him feel slightly weirded out. 

Derek took the hint. "Not the ears?" he asked, his voice rough.

Stiles gave a quick shake of his head.

Derek nodded. 

Stiles tilted his head, rising up from the pillow. Derek met him halfway, taking his lips in a demanding kiss. Somehow, their free hands found together and Stiles stopped thinking. They rutted together, desperately holding on to each other's hands. The musky taste on Derek's tongue made Stiles groan and push his hips up extra hard and Derek responded, gasping into his mouth as his hips stuttered and his fingers tightened on Stiles'. 

Stiles couldn't actually feel the wet spread of Derek's come staining the cotton of his boxer briefs, but the thought of Derek coming in his underwear was enough to take Stiles to the edge of his own orgasm. Stiles broke the kiss, gasping, and tilted his head back as he pumped his hips faster. In the end, all it took to push him over the edge was Derek kissing the side of his neck, letting his blunt human teeth graze across Stiles' pulse point.

#

Derek let himself drift for a few minutes, enjoying the feeling of Stiles pressed up against his side and Stiles' satisfied scent in his nose. He felt a low thrum of sated contentment running through his veins, making his body warm and heavy. At the same time, however, parts of Derek's brain were absolutely disgusted with his own behavior. Stiles hadn't said no at any point, but he didn't know that Derek was deceiving him. He didn't know that Derek had been lying to him from the start and that the reason why he changed his mind was mostly because he needed an excuse to join Stiles in the bathroom where they could talk with the rush of the shower concealing their words from the twins who had followed him back to the motel and gotten the room next door.

He'd been able to push his thoughts aside while they were making love, clinging to Stiles with a narrow-minded focus on nothing but the present, but now that his body was turning lethargic and his mind was no longer distracted by the pleasure - his own and Stiles' - it made Derek sick to think about it. Stiles might not have said no, but would he have said yes if he knew? Derek doubted it. 

"Hey," Stiles said, turning on his side to face Derek. "You're quiet," he continued. "Thinking heavy thoughts?" He lightly rubbed his hand over Derek's stomach and Derek reluctantly opened his eyes, not ready for the moment to be over. 

"Just thinking that I don't want to move, but we really need to get cleaned up," Derek said. He wanted to take Stiles' hand and bury his face in Stiles' neck until they both fell asleep. Stiles wouldn't push him away, but Derek had already done enough to make Stiles hate him forever. He needed to keep Stiles alive, save his sister and maybe - if he was lucky - survive long enough to pick up the pieces of his life and watch Kate Argent get put behind bars. 

He sighed and sat up, dragging Stiles up with him. "Come on. Shower." 

Stiles sagged against him and whined. "I don't wanna move. I need a nap." 

"Then stay here and sleep," Derek said. "But don't come crying to me when you're trying not to rip out all the hairs on your stomach while trying to peel the blanket off after your nap." 

Stiles groaned and scooted to the edge of the bed, holding up his jeans so he wouldn't trip as soon as he tried to stand up. Derek just pulled his jeans up a bit. They were tight enough that they wouldn't just slide off. 

Stiles snorted. "Man, we look ridiculous." He scratched his stomach, grimacing when his nails scraped through half-dried come. "And I definitely need a shower." 

Derek watched through the open bathroom door as Stiles took off his jeans and his boxers, using the latter to mop up some of the mess on his stomach before dropping them on the floor. Stiles turned his head and looked back at him. "Well? Are you joining me or what?" He winked and Derek couldn't suppress a smile at that. "Come on, Derek. I have designs on that beard of yours. I bet you use a conditioner to get it that soft." 

Derek shook his head and joined Stiles in the bathroom, closing the door behind them. He peeled off his jeans and his soiled boxer briefs while Stiles turned on the shower and fiddled with the temperature controls. He nearly jumped when Stiles was suddenly next to him, running a hand up Derek's arm. He pressed a kiss to Derek's cheek, frowning a little. "Are you okay?" 

Derek swallowed. This was it. The moment of truth. "I--" His couldn't quite meet Stiles' eyes, so he let his gaze drop. It fell on Stiles' arms and completely derailed his confession. "I hurt you," Derek said, carefully brushing his thumb over Stiles' upper arm. Under his fingers, a yellowing hand-shaped bruise stood out against Stiles' flushed skin. 

"Those?" Stiles asked. He looked down at his arms. "Nah. Sorry to disappoint you, but these are a few days old. From when a certain werewolf grabbed me and threw himself out a window with me." 

"So I did hurt you."

Stiles frowned. "You gave me a couple of bruises in the process of saving my life. Trust me, I'm not complaining."

"Maybe you should be," Derek said, his brows drawing together. "I'm not good for you. I'm not good for anyone." 

"Okay, what brought this on?" Stiles gently cupped the side of Derek's face and turned his head. Derek wouldn't meet his eyes though, his gaze still fixed to the bruises on Stiles' arms. 

Stiles ducked his head until he could meet Derek's eyes. "Hey," he said. "Wanna tell me what's up? What makes you think you're no good? You saved my life and now you're helping me keep my ass out of jail while putting the people responsible where they belong."

Finding the right words was even harder than Derek had imagined, so instead of a somewhat eloquent explanation in addition to a profound apology, all that came out was, "I lied to you." 

"Lied? About what?" 

Derek opened his mouth, but didn't know where to start. He shrugged helplessly. "A lot of things." 

Stiles made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. "Well, how about you start with one thing you lied about?"

"I didn't just change my mind for no reason," Derek said. 

"Change your mind about us, you mean?" Stiles asked. He waved his hand between them. "This?" 

Derek nodded. "While I was out, I ran into the twins from the cabin. I don't know how they found us, but they were waiting for me. They had Kate on the phone for me." 

"Kate? I just talked to her! What did she want with you?" 

"She has Cora," Derek said. "She wanted me to destroy your listening devices and take you to her house instead of the place she agreed to meet you." He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that would make it easier to say the words. "I agreed."

To Derek's surprise, Stiles wrapped his arms around his shoulders and pulled him close, one of his hands coming up to rest on Derek's head, gently pushing it down until Derek put his head on Stiles' shoulder. 

"What are you doing?"

"Hugging you," Stiles replied, amusement and exasperation warring in his voice. "I'm sure you've heard of it before. People do it to express affection and to comfort each other and because they like each other. Besides, you looked like you could use a hug."

"The twins followed me here," Derek said. "They're watching us, listening in on us. I needed to get you in here so I could tell you." 

Stiles' hand stopped running soothingly through his hair. 

"I'm sorry," Derek added, pulling back from the hug.

"No," Stiles said. "I guess I'm the one who's sorry. I thought you wanted--but you were just--"

"Stiles--"

Stiles shook his head. "It's fine. Just give me a moment to get used to the fact that you only jumped me because you wanted to talk to me in private." 

"It's not fine," Derek argued. "And I didn't just--I mean, I would've--" Derek broke off with a frustrated sigh. "Stiles, I didn't have sex with you just because I needed to talk to you. If we'd met under different circumstances--"

"But we didn't," Stiles interrupted him. "We met the way we did. And maybe that makes this thing between us a bad idea, but I want this, Derek. I want you." 

Derek closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The steam in the air made Stiles' scent especially heady. "I want you, too. I don't think I've ever had a more immediate connection with anyone. But there are still things I haven't told you. I'm not--"

"Derek?" Stiles interrupted him. "I don't need to know." 

"Yes, you do," Derek said. 

"Not right now, I don't. We both need to take a shower and then I need to start planning. If Kate is trying to outmaneuver me, I just need to be smarter than her. I need to talk to Allison and my dad." 

"But--"

"Whatever it is, you can tell me after this is over," Stiles said. "I promise it won't change anything." 

"You can't--"

Stiles put a finger over Derek's lips. "I can," he said, his voice full of certainty. He stepped a little closer, brushing his body against Derek's, and tilted his head up, silently asking for a kiss. 

Stiles couldn't know that he was promising Derek impossible things, that there was no way the truth wouldn't change things between them. Stiles would turn away from him once he knew the truth, so it was a fitting punishment that Derek got to hold him and kiss him and breathe in their mixed scents for now, knowing it couldn't last. 

"Okay," Derek agreed, pressing a soft kiss to Stiles' lips. 

Stiles hummed contently, leaning their foreheads together for a moment. Then he reluctantly pulled back. "Okay, here's what we're going to do…"

#

Allison used the family code to open the large iron-wrought gates that closed Kate's driveway off from the road, knowing that Kate would have gotten an alert that someone was approaching the house. The entire property was surrounded by a wall, eight feet tall and topped with barbed wire. Kate's house was a large, imposing structure with style elements borrowed from nearly every epoch of architecture. The dominating elements, however, were gothic, with pointed arches over each of the many windows and even a tall, narrow tower on one corner, giving Allison the impression of entering a fortress rather than someone's home.

"Allison!" Kate exclaimed from the top of the stairs. "This is a surprise." 

"Aunt Kate," Allison said with a strained smile. "I know I didn't call, but I just needed to talk to someone who's not Scott." 

"It's fine, honey," Kate said, walking down towards her. She put a comforting hand on Allison's arm. "Come on, let's go into my study. We can talk there uninterrupted." 

Allison nodded and let herself be steered towards Kate's study. The study was actually Allison's favorite room in the house. Unlike the rest of the house with its high ceilings and large spaces, the study felt snug and cozy, with dark wooden paneling on the walls and wooden furniture whose polish gave off a warm brown gleam in the light from the chandelier above. The chairs were comfortable and sturdy and while Kate's desk was large and imposing, it also made her look smaller than she was. 

Kate offered her a drink and then brought Allison a soda and fixed herself a martini. "Let me guess," she said once she settled into her chair. "You're here because of Stiles." 

Allison nodded. "Stiles is my friend, Kate! I can't believe he would do such a thing!"

"Shh, I know, honey. I couldn't believe it myself," Kate said. "I've worked with Stiles for years - to find out he betrayed the company…" Kate trailed off, shaking her head. 

"Exactly! I don't _want_ to believe that Stiles would do this to us, but I know you have no reason to lie about it," Allison said, smiling weakly when Kate nodded. "I can't talk to Scott about this. He's firmly on Stiles' side and he won't even accept the possibility that Stiles _could_ have done something."

"They're close," Kate said. "Maybe even closer than you and Scott are - in different ways, of course. But it can't be easy to know that the one person who's supposed to always be in your corner is backing up somebody else." 

Allison made a frustrated sound and stood up, pacing from one side of the study to the other. She trailed her hands over the smooth wooden panels, pushing her finger into the furrow between the panels. 

"Allison--" Kate started, her voice sympathetic. 

Allison whirled around. "I just want this to be over! I want it to be a misunderstanding. I want the real bad guys to go to jail and Stiles to come back and everything to go back to the way it was." 

"Oh, honey," Kate said with a wince. She stepped around her desk and leaned against it. "I know it hurts when someone you love betrays you. But he'll have to take responsibility for what he did, you know that."

"I guess." Allison sighed heavily. "But it's still so… unbelievable!"

"Come here," Kate said, opening her arms. 

Allison hesitated only for a second before letting her aunt embrace her. 

When Allison left Kate's house twenty minutes later, she texted a two-word text to Scott, the sheriff and an 'unknown number'.

_It's done._

#

Stiles was pleasantly sore when he woke up the next morning, his body calm and his mind clear. Derek, he knew, wouldn't feel the physical reminders of the night they'd spent together, but Stiles hoped it settled his mind nonetheless. He couldn't help but feel guilty for part of Derek's agitation. After all, he most likely knew what it was that Derek wanted to confess. And if it was what Stiles suspected - that Derek had originally been hired to kill him rather than save him - then he could have put Derek's mind at ease. But part of Stiles hadn't wanted to hear it, wanting to cling to the fantasy that Derek was the knight in shining armor, come to save the prince that had unwittingly become ensnared in a dastardly plot.

Stiles shook his head. Fairy tale fantasies aside, he simply didn't want to have reality intrude on their few hours together. Derek telling him his secret would have meant more talking and - quite possibly - Derek pulling away from him again. Stiles faced the very real possibility of his boss wanting to kill him, going so far as to orchestrate a plot to get him to her isolated mansion where she could bury him under the rose bushes before anyone realized he wasn't alive and kicking any more. If he was about to die, then he wanted to spend as much time with Derek as possible, doing many, many things (in many different positions). 

"Hey," he said, slapping Derek's bare ass. "You awake?" 

"I am now," Derek grumbled into the pillow. 

"Good, because it's ten am already and we need to meet with my dad." 

Derek frowned. "Why?"

"Surveillance equipment," Stiles said. 

"But I went to the electronics store yesterday and bought the stuff you said." 

"That's just the ground surveillance I'm gonna set up around the café," Stiles explained. "I'm gonna need some really sophisticated equipment for myself." 

"And your dad's the sheriff," Derek said, realization dawning on his face. 

"Bingo," Stiles said. "He's going to give me the best stuff, borrowed from the Beacon Hills Sheriff's department." 

They took their turns in the bathroom and then headed outside, taking the Camaro downtown. Derek drove in a winding route, taking random turns and doubling back on himself. Stiles wasn't sure if he was actually trying to shake the twins that were sure to be following them, or if he was just putting on a show for the twins, making it look like Stiles had no clue and Derek was doing everything he could to keep it that way. 

Derek eventually pulled the Camaro into a parking garage a few blocks from the restaurant where Stiles had arranged to meet his dad. It disturbed Stiles that he couldn't see the twins even though he knew they were following them. He used it to his advantage though, jumping at every shadow until Derek rolled his eyes and grabbed his hand, pulling him close. 

They walked into the restaurant hand-in-hand. Stiles dad, sitting in the back corner, stood up and waved them over, shooting Stiles a questioning look at the sight of their joined hands. Stiles tried to communicate an 'I'll tell you later' with his eyebrows, and his dad seemed to get it. The hand-holding got a raised eyebrow, but his dad made no comments once they reached the table. 

"Come here," his dad said, pulling him into a hug as soon as they were close enough. 

Stiles hugged him back fiercely, acutely aware that if things went really wrong, this might be the last time he'd ever see his dad. 

"Hey, Dad," Stiles said when they finally let go. "It's good to see you." 

"Good to see you, too, son," his dad said. 

"This awkward turtle over here is Derek," Stiles said. "He's been keeping me alive these past few days." 

"Derek," his dad said. "Thank you for keeping my boy safe." 

Derek ducked his head. "Sheriff," was all he said and Stiles rolled his eyes. 

"Okay, sit down. We should order food or we'll just attract attention. I'm not really comfortable being around so many people when my face has been on the 6 o'clock news telling the public I'm a dangerous criminal." 

His dad shrugged. "They used a picture from a few years ago - you're wearing a suit and have shorter hair. Nobody is going to recognize you dressed like a teenager and with that…" His dad trailed off and waved his finger at Stiles' head. "What - did you forget your comb and your razor when you went on the lam?" 

Stiles ineffectively tried to pat down his hair, but it was at the awkward stage between haircuts where it was too short to lie flat but too long to stand up without the help of some gel which - incidentally - Stiles had forgotten to pack. As for his face - Stiles usually had to shave once a day at the most. In their third year of college, Scott grew a full beard and Stiles had been overcome with jealousy, cursing the few hairs that grew on his chin and general lack of scruff even after a few days of not shaving. Running a hand over his chin he could feel the rasp of stubble, but not nearly enough to make him look like any sort of disreputable felon.

"Did you bring the stuff?" he asked instead. 

His dad nodded. "Bag under the table. Take it when you leave." 

"So… are we eating lunch or what?" Stiles asked, looking from his dad to Derek and back again. 

"I could eat," Derek said. 

His dad shrugged and signaled the waiter.

#

"How does it look?" Stiles asked, straightening the collar of his plaid shirt.

"Pretty good," Derek said. "If I didn't know better, I wouldn't know you're wearing a wire." 

"Awesome," Stiles said. He tugged on his jacket and adjusted the cuffs, making sure nothing was out of place. Derek was leaning against the door, his thumbs hooked into the front pockets of his jeans. His posture looked completely relaxed, but Stiles could see the tension in his shoulders and the pinched look around his eyes. "Hey," he said quietly, stepping closer to Derek. "Don't freak out now, okay? A few more hours and this is all over." 

"Yeah," Derek said, "exactly." 

Stiles frowned. "Was that a veiled 'we're all gonna die' comment or a veiled 'this relationship is doomed from the start' comment?" 

Derek huffed out a laugh. "Can it be both?" 

"I don't know," Stiles said, reaching up a hand to play with the buttons at the V of Derek's throat. "Can it be neither?" 

Derek caught his hand. "I'm not sure it can," he said seriously. 

"Well," Stiles said, "I am, so trust me." He dipped his head and pressed a quick kiss to Derek's knuckles.

"Okay," Derek said, but he didn't look like he believed it. 

Stiles sighed. There was nothing he could do to reassure Derek, except keep his faith. He checked his watch. "It's one thirty. We should get going if we want to get to the café on time." 

"Right," Derek said. "Let's do this."

#

The car ride was tense and quiet. Derek gripped the wheel tightly enough that the leather-covered plastic creaked dangerously under his fingers.

Stiles didn't have to play up his nervousness. The stink of nerves and anxiety poured off of him stronger than ever before. But Derek also caught the faint scent of resolve and he could see the determined look in Stiles' eye as he started looking around in confusion after they'd covered half the distance. 

"Hey, weren't we supposed to turn here?" he asked, pointing at a side street. "Derek?" 

Derek grit his teeth, letting his eyes fly to the rearview mirror. The twins were trailing behind them, weaving in and out of traffic on their motorbikes. Considering the distance between them and the sounds of traffic all around them, Derek doubted they could hear anything he or Stiles said, but Stiles argued that they could have hidden a bug in the car during the night. Since neither of them could search the car without tipping off the twins, Stiles decided that their charade had to start the moment they left the hotel. 

"Slight change of plans, Stiles," Derek said. "I'm sorry, but you're not meeting Kate at the café." 

"What?" Stiles asked. "No. You can't be serious! Derek?" 

The hurt look Stiles sent him made Derek flinch internally. He felt his claws come out and slice through the leather of his steering wheel, but he took a deep breath, searching for that hint of determination and bravery in Stiles' scent. "Sorry," he pressed out. 

"No, come on, Derek, don't do this. Whatever she's paying you, it can't be worth this!" 

The thought of him taking money from Kate for anything made Derek snarl. The sudden realization that he almost had, that Kate was the one paying to get Stiles killed and he was the one who ended up with the job, made him sick to his stomach and he growled.

"No," Stiles said. "Stop the car! Just let me out!" He reached for the door handle and Derek yanked him back, glaring at Stiles. 

Stiles nodded, almost imperceptibly, and started struggling, trying to reach the door handle. Derek let go of Stiles' arm and tried not to think as he made a fist and punched Stiles straight across the jaw, making his eyes roll back as he slumped back into his seat, unconscious.

#

Melissa parked her car in the underground parking garage under the hospital, nervously peering at the dark spaces between the parked cars as she made her way to the elevators in the corner. In her sneakers and light blue scrubs, she looked like any of the several dozen nurses who worked at Beacon City University Hospital. Melissa got onto the elevator and pushed the button for the eighth floor. The back wall of the elevator was mirrored, and Melissa used it to check that her ID badge was half-hidden from view, making it look like she had authority to be there without letting anyone see that the ID was from Beacon Hills Memorial and not Beacon City University Hospital.

The eighth floor - oncology - was quiet and peaceful and Melissa took a deep breath and headed for the stairs at the end of the corridor. One of the rooms opened just as Melissa walked past and she absently greeted the nurse that stepped out before focusing back on her clipboard. It worked like a charm. The other nurse echoed her greeting and went on her way without questioning Melissa's presence. 

Melissa's footsteps echoed in the stairwell and she shivered. 

"Come on, Melissa, get a grip on yourself," she whispered, gripping her clipboard tighter. The seventh floor was just as quiet as the oncology ward above, but Melissa couldn't find it peaceful, knowing what she did. Cora Hale was asleep - or perhaps comatose, Melissa decided, taking a look at the readings - when she entered the room. It took a fast and precise hand to make sure none of the alarms went off as she removed the electrodes and wires from Cora, making sure not to switch off anything that would look suspicious on the monitors up at the nurses' station. The girl in the next bed looked even worse off than Cora and it pained Melissa to leave her there, but for the time being there was nothing she could do for her. 

Once Melissa had transferred all the essentials to the second girl, she slipped the robe lying over the foot end of the bed over Cora's shoulders and unfolded the wheelchair in the corner of the room. Cora wasn't heavy, but she was completely unresponsive, making it quite difficult for Melissa to transfer her to the wheelchair by herself. But after years as a nurse, she had enough practice to get the job done quickly and without hurting Cora. 

A quick check of the hallway showed that everything was still quiet. With the wheelchair, she would have to take Cora down in the elevator. The elevator, however, was past the nurses' station where the chances of running into anyone were too high to risk. Melissa checked her watch and impatiently tapped her fingers against her arm. 

_Come on,_ she thought.

#

Derek almost drove past Kate's driveway. The large gate drew his eye, though, and he snorted as the gate opened automatically when he rolled to a stop in front of it. The gate was tall and imposing, and the iron bars were worked to resemble a giant bow and arrow. The gate didn't part in the middle but curved like a drawn bow, with an iron arrow attached horizontally to the vertical bars.

"Argents," Derek muttered. He parked the Camaro in front of the door, glaring when the nearest security camera whirred to life and followed his movements as he walked over to the passenger side. 

Stiles was already awake, but he kept his eyes shut and his muscles relaxed. Derek picked him up and slung him over his shoulder, letting Stiles' arms dangle down his back while he kept a tight grip on Stiles' legs. Stiles' quiet 'oomph' when his stomach landed on Derek's shoulder made Derek run his thumb over Stiles' shin, hidden from the cameras. It wasn't a very elegant way of carrying someone, but Derek wanted to have one hand free in case… just in case. 

The security cameras inside the lobby and along the hallways followed Derek's progress. He kept his steps slow and smooth, trying not to jostle Stiles. Without his werewolf senses, he wouldn't have known that Stiles was awake. Stiles' eyes were barely open as he squinted at the world through two small slits. To anyone else he would look barely conscious, trying to work past a ringing headache and blood rushing to his head from being carried over Derek's shoulder. 

Derek hadn't known who Kate was, that she was rich and powerful, until after she'd killed his family and he accused her of the crime. He'd never been in the house either, so he simply followed the strongest, freshest scent trail, keeping a tight grip on Stiles and his control. Stiles groaned dramatically and squirmed in Derek's hold. To Kate it would look like he was fighting his way back to lucidity, but all that Stiles' struggles accomplished was to give Derek's back a comforting caress. Derek appreciated it more than he could say.

Kate was waiting in a large room that Derek would have found inviting under different circumstances. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, wood paneling and sturdy, wooden furniture dominated the room. The lights were bright enough to read by, but muted enough to give the room a cozy atmosphere. Kate's presence behind the large desk negated the effect and made Derek shiver involuntarily.

"Derek! Welcome to my home and my study," Kate said, spreading her arms. 

Derek glared at her and put Stiles down carefully, steadying him when he swayed on his feet and blearily blinked against the light. "Wha...?" Stiles mumbled, slowly shaking his head. He leaned against Derek, putting a hand on Derek's arm to steady himself.

"Really, Derek?" Kate asked, her eyes lingering on the blooming bruise on Stiles' chin for a moment, but her tone was amused rather than admonishing. 

"He was not happy with the change of plans," Derek said. "I didn't want people calling the cops because they saw me driving with a guy struggling against me in the passenger seat." He shrugged and then reached out to steady Stiles when the motion made him sway on his feet again. "Honestly? I didn't think you'd mind."

"Oh, I don't," Kate said cheerfully. "But I still want to talk to him, so make sure he doesn't pass out. Just sit him down there," she added, pointing at one of the chairs. 

Derek grabbed Stiles by the arms and slowly walked him over to the chair. Before he pushed Stiles down into the seat, he hooked his fingers into Stiles' plaid shirt between the buttons and yanked it open, buttons flying. 

"Hey," Stiles mumbled, weakly batting at Derek's hands when he ran his fingers under the collar of the shirt to pull out the wire and microphone attached to it. He tossed it on Kate's desk and then gave Stiles' a small shove. Stiles stumbled and sat down heavily, but Derek knew the plush upholstery would make sure his backside wouldn't bruise. For a split second Stiles' gaze cleared and he winked at Derek before letting his eyes go a little unfocused again. 

"That's the listening device?" Kate asked, trailing her hand over the wire until she reached the microphone. It was about the size of a button. She tapped it with one expertly manicured fingernail. 

Derek was about to respond when he heard footsteps coming from the open doorway. A few moments later, Gerard Argent, in a dark suit and an almost cheerful pale yellow tie, entered the room, letting the door fall shut behind him. Derek couldn't help but tense, feeling a bit more like a cornered animal with both Kate and Gerard in the room and his only way of escape blocked by an unlocked but heavy door. Derek shot the door a quick look. If he needed to, he was sure he could simply punch his way through the door. Two inches of solid wood meant nothing to his strength and his claws. 

Stiles shifted in his seat. The movement brought his knee in contact with Derek's leg and Derek looked down at Stiles. Stiles wasn't looking at him, but the touch let Derek know that he wasn't alone. This entire thing was Stiles' plan. He didn't stand alone against Kate and Gerard. 

Gerard took the listening device from Kate's hands and inspected it. 

Derek reached into Stiles' breast pocket and took out a small remote with only one button on it. Above the button, a small green light was glowing. 

"Here," he said, handing the remote to Kate. "This is the remote that turns it on and off." 

Kate turned the remote over in her hands, her eyes catching on the green light. "It's on?" 

Derek nodded. 

Kate smirked and pushed the button. The green light went out. Satisfied, Kate dropped the remote into the trashcan next to her desk. 

Behind Derek, Stiles went limp and glared at Kate. "You suck," he said, rubbing a hand along his jaw. 

"Occasionally," Kate said, sending a seductive look at Derek. 

Gerard cleared his throat and Derek was oddly thankful for him derailing Kate. Gerard dropped the wire and mike on the floor. "Let's not take any chances here," he said, stomping on the microphone. It shattered and Derek flinched at the high-pitched electronic whine that the humans in the room couldn't hear. 

Gerard gave Derek a cold look. Then his gaze slid over to Stiles. "Now, young man. My daughter tells me you've been causing us quite a bit of trouble lately."

#

The first crackling sound coming from the speakers had everyone in the van perk up, conversation dropping to nothing as they listened in tense silence.

 _You suck,_ John heard his own son say, clear as day. 

_Occasionally,_ a woman's voice replied. 

Allison tensed at his side. "That's Kate," she whispered. 

John exchanged a look with the DA, a woman around his age. She wore a pantsuit that probably cost more than John would ever consider spending on clothes and had her hair styled in a neat French braid, giving off an air of professionalism and competence. However, the fact that she was known to come down hard on corruption and conspiracy cases worked more in her favor where John was concerned than her hairstyle.

 _Now, young man. My daughter tells me you've been causing us quite a bit of trouble lately,_ an older man said.

Allison crossed her arms and took a deep breath, looking up at the van's ceiling. 

"That's Gerard," Scott said, squeezing Allison's shoulder. "Kate's father and Allison's grandfather." 

"AWI's CEO," DA Culver said. "Sounds like they're the only people in there with your son and Hale," she added. 

John nodded.

Silence fell in the van as Stiles started speaking. 

_Trouble? I've been causing **you** trouble. I think you got your facts screwed up, Gerard. You're the ones who've been causing me trouble. One moment I'm just some guy who works in R &D, and the next I'm being chased by cops and contract killers for something I didn't even do. You built a giant flaw into my designs and it's going to kill thousands if nobody stops you!_

Kate's laughter filtered through the speakers. The listening equipment was high end – so much so that it almost seemed like they were in the same room with Kate and the others. Next to him, Allison pressed herself closer to Scott. John reached out and put his arm around her, glad when she didn't pull away from him. 

Over the years, Allison had become his honorary daughter. She was Stiles' friend and Scott's better half and he'd watched her grow from a determined but insecure young girl into a determined and confident woman. Allison and her family had a complicated relationship. Allison was constantly out to prove herself to them. Her father tried to help and protect her and her mother challenged and pushed her. John didn't doubt that Allison's parents loved her, but they gave her conflicting goals to aspire to and usually hid their parenting behind what was best for the company. 

John didn't know how Allison's relationship with her aunt and her grandfather was like, but he imagined it was similar. Thankfully Allison had found her own way, but John knew from experience that no matter how old you were, be it sixteen or thirty or fifty-three, your parents were your parents and they could still make you feel like a naughty seven-year-old with just a few words. John was just glad that Allison had enough strength, enough integrity, not to let her family blind her. Without her, they wouldn't have ears inside the study.

 _Who's going to stop us, Stiles? You?_ Kate said with a derisive snort.

 _Yeah, me,_ Stiles replied, sounding like a petulant child. _You probably don't believe me, but this is totally part of my plan._

 _Is it?_ Gerard said, sounding bored. 

_Totally,_ Stiles said. _You know, I've got you all figured out. The only thing I don't know is if Allison's parents are involved in this. I know Allison isn't._

 _Please,_ Kate said. _Chris is way too straight-laced and proper to go against company policy._

 _And the law,_ Stiles interjected. _You're breaking the law, like actual California, US and kind of worldwide law. Killing people is illegal pretty much everywhere._

Gerard scoffed. _The law is for other people._

_Wow,_ Stiles said. _You really believe that. You're totally crazy. And I noticed you didn't mention Allison's mom._

 _My son might be weak, but he picked a good woman for a wife,_ Gerard said. _Victoria has her head on straight._

 _So what you're saying is that she's involved,_ Stiles said slowly, like he was still putting his thoughts together. _Of course she is. She's the CFO - you've been siphoning off money to fund your little genocidal side project. She had to have known._

 _Victoria knows what's at stake,_ Gerard said. _Every day more of these animals are born. We had a way to put a stop to that - of course she knew!_

Allison gasped and John felt her flinch, drawing in on herself. 

DA Culver shot her a sympathetic look and then moved away a few feet, taking out her cell phone. The space in the van was too small not to overhear her sending a team to Chris and Victoria Argent's residence to arrest Victoria and detain Chris for questioning, but she made an effort keep it out of Allison's face and John appreciated it. 

_You make me sick,_ Stiles said. _And you know what else makes me sick? That you're using my invention! I trusted you and you're destroying everything I worked for. I spent years perfecting the release mechanism, and you sabotaged it! You know, it took me a long time to perfect my designs. I figure you must have been planning your own little scheme for just as long. But then again, you've been playing us all for fools for a long time, haven't you? I mean, you shake people's hands and smile and then when they look away, you set fire to their houses. Isn't that what you did to Derek's family home? And his family? Made nice with Derek, used him and played with him, and then once you had what information you needed, you burned down their house._

Kate laughed and John felt Allison shiver. His own reaction to hearing Kate's sick amusement was similar. 

_Oh, don't be mad,_ Kate said. _That was years ago. But yes, it was beautiful. So easy and_ so _worth it. Poor little Derek, so bright-eyed and so, so eager to impress his girlfriend that he gave up his entire family._

#

Stiles felt his lips twitch, curling back in disgust. "Derek loved you," Stiles said, his tone accusing. "He trusted you and you betrayed him."

Kate shrugged and leaned back in her chair, her posture relaxed and comfortable. "Well," she said lazily, "that’s life."

Stiles felt his anger ratchet up a notch and he balled his hands into fists, letting his fingernails dig into the soft flesh of his palms. Next to him, Derek was staring straight ahead. He kept so still that Stiles was tempted to check if he was still breathing. They'd talked about this, early in the morning when Derek confessed how he'd met Kate and why he couldn't refuse her when she held Cora's life in her hands. Stiles had promised to do whatever he could to put Kate behind bars, and not just for all the things she'd done to Stiles. Derek's family deserved justice, too. But hearing Kate's callous words, seeing her without even a hint of guilt for destroying Derek's family, his _pack_ , was difficult enough for Stiles. He didn't want to imagine what it had to be like for Derek who had actually lived through his family's deaths. 

"You killed nine people!" Stiles said. He fervently hoped that his dad and the DA and every cop waiting in a side street a block over were getting every single twisted word that came out of Kate's mouth. The microphones Allison had placed in Kate's study the day before were expensive, high-end devices that looked like thin round disks. They were unobtrusive enough that Stiles couldn't see them even though he was looking to see if he could spot their hiding places. He couldn't wait to tell Kate that she herself had turned them on with the remote, making it possible to get enough material to send her to prison for a long time.

Kate laughed. "Oh, honey. I killed way more than that. Besides… Derek isn't exactly innocent either. Tell me, Stiles, do you know why Derek is involved in this at all? Do you know that he was supposed to kill you?"

#

The wait was excruciating. Every sound from the hallway made Melissa jump. She checked her watch again, impatiently watching the seconds tick by slowly. When the alarms at the nurse's station finally came to life, blaring a cacophony of alarms and notices, Melissa startled.

Clutching at her racing heart, she waited until the alarms shut off and she heard hurried footsteps running past the open doorway. It wouldn't take too long for the nurses to figure out that the alarms were fake and that the patient in the last room wasn't actually crashing. Without any time to waste, Melissa pushed Cora's wheelchair down the hallway, ducking past the nurse's station and to the elevators. 

The wait for the elevator was agonizing, the seconds stretching until Melissa was sure they'd be stuck on the seventh floor for hours. The soft ping and the sound of the elevator doors opening had Melissa send a worried glance down the hallway, but the nurses hadn't reappeared from the last room yet. 

Taking a calming breath, Melissa pushed Cora into the elevator and hit the button for the garage. Her heart stopped nearly every time the elevator did, but nobody paid her or Cora any mind. Other nurses or doctors gave her a nod, but they were preoccupied with their own work. Visitors actively avoided looking at Cora - Melissa didn't know if it was respect or the simple fact that sickness made people nervous, but it wasn't unusual or uncommon behavior. Apart from the ones they were there to see, visitors rarely if ever looked at any of the other patients. Still, Melissa breathed a sigh of relief when they reached the parking garage without attracting any attention. 

The ground of the parking garage wasn't as even as the hospital floors and Cora slumped forwards a little when Melissa pushed the chair over a small bump. Melissa reached out and pulled Cora back, keeping a hand on the girl's shoulder to keep her upright. Her thumb brushed Cora's neck and she could feel Cora's pulse fluttering against her skin. Frowning, Melissa took Cora's wrist and pressed her fingertips to the girl's pulse point. Her heartbeat was picking up. Maybe it was the colder air in the parking garage or the fact that she was no longer attached to anything from her room, but Cora was slowly waking up. 

Melissa smiled and quickened her steps. She needed to get Cora into her car and out of the hospital. Trying to explain the situation while they weren't quite safe wasn't something Melissa wanted to attempt. 

"Shh," she said, running a soothing hand through Cora's lank hair. "Just hang on for a bit longer."

#

Derek felt Kate's words like a shock to his core. He'd known that particular secret would come back to haunt him, but he still wasn't prepared for it. What was he going to do? Stiles would still try and help Cora - Derek was sure of it - but how could they finish this if Stiles turned away from him, if Stiles stopped trusting him? Or worse, how was he going to deal with it if Stiles refused to believe Kate? That would make telling him the truth after it was all over even more difficult.

The air left his lungs in a quiet whoosh when Stiles laughed in Kate's face, shaking his head a little like Kate's words were too ridiculous to believe. Stiles had so much faith in him that it made Derek feel even worse because he knew he'd have to shatter that faith once they had a quiet moment to themselves. 

Stiles calmed down a little, his laughter tapering off to a few quiet chuckles. "Really, Kate? You think you're telling me anything I don't know here?"

Derek blinked, his breath caught in his throat. Stiles wasn't lying. He knew. He figured it out and he still let Derek 'kidnap' him and bring him to Kate. 

Stiles gave Kate a superior, almost challenging look. "Of course I knew! Who do you think I am? I'm a freaking genius, okay? Derek told me about his sister and I can put two and two together. You're holding her life over his head, making him do what you want. If you want to surprise me, tell me something I don't know."

Gerard, leaning against Kate's desk, straightened up and took a step forward. "Something you don't know?" he repeated. "Let's talk about that. About what you know."

Stiles shrugged. "I know lots of things. Mostly about you and your daughter and your criminal activities." He raised his eyebrows at Gerard. "I'm assuming that's what you want to know." 

"How much do you know?" Gerard asked. "Exactly." 

Stiles leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "I'm not sure I want to tell you. Why don't you tell me all about your evil scheme and I'll tell you if I already knew about it?"

Quicker than Derek expected, Gerard closed the distance between the desk and Stiles' chair and backhanded Stiles across the face. "Don't play game with me, boy." 

Stiles, holding his cheek, glared up at Gerard in silence. 

Kate cleared her throat. "Stiles, before my dad continues along these lines, you should consider something else," she said, letting her gaze drift towards Derek. 

Derek tensed. 

"Maybe you knew what Derek was hired to do," Kate said. "Maybe you believe that he's a _good guy_ ," she spat, making it sound like an insult. "Maybe he even is. But he still brought you here, right into my house. If you still think you're going to be leaving here again, I might have some bad news for you." 

Stiles snorted. "Telling me you're going to kill me isn't exactly going to make me _more_ likely to tell you what I know, is it?"

Kate shrugged, not the least concerned. "We don't need to know what you know. We just need to know who you talked to and who has the files that you stole."

Stiles mimicked Kate's shrug and stayed silent. 

"Dad," Kate said. "I think you were going to remind Stiles that it's in his best interests to cooperate."

Gerard made a fist and punched Stiles, watching in satisfaction as Stiles groaned and wiped at his mouth, his fingers coming away bloody. He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed a few specks of blood from his fist. "You know," he said conversationally, "this would be so much easier on you if you just told us who else knows about this. Your father? That mutt Allison is involved with? Both?" 

Stiles stared up at Gerard in silence, his gaze defiant. 

Gerard grabbed a fistful of Stiles' shirt and dragged him half out of the chair before using his elbow to deliver a blow to Stiles' sternum, sending him back into the chair with a breathless _oomph_. 

Derek felt his fangs drop and his claws slice into his skin as he fought not to move or uncross his arms. Stiles hadn't given the code word yet, and he couldn't break Stiles' trust again. He needed to stick to the plan.

"We could just kill you and then kill them both. In fact…" Gerard said quietly, bringing his face close to Stiles'. "Why shouldn't we do that anyway? Getting rid of another animal and getting rid of someone who contributed to your gene pool - I can only see the upside of this. Tell me, Stiles, does your father know you're not only friends with these beasts, but that you fuck them, too?" 

"Like Allison, you mean?" 

Derek saw the cold fury burn in Gerard's eyes and he growled before he could stop himself. His hand darted out and he caught Gerard's arm before he could complete another blow against Stiles. His claws, already stained red with his own blood, dug into Gerard's arm and he bared his teeth in a wordless warning as Gerard tried to yank his arm out of Derek's grip.

"Ah, ah, ah, Derek," Kate's voice cut through the suddenly intense silence. "Remember our deal - you deliver Stiles and stay out of it." Her gaze caught on Derek's hand, his fingers still wrapped around Gerard's forearm. "But in case you need a reminder…" she trailed off and reached out, pushing a button on the intercom on her desk. "Jen, can you be a dear and come into my study?"

It only took a few seconds before the door to the study opened and Derek frowned at the rush of sounds. The study was soundproof, he realized. He hadn't noticed it before, being so focused on what was happening inside the study that he hadn't paid any attention to what was going on outside. He could hear several heartbeats in the house and the tread of heavy, military-issue boots. Kate had her own private army on the grounds. Derek just hoped that Stiles' dad had mobilized enough police to take care of them all. 

The door to the study fell shut again, cutting off the sounds Derek was chasing through the house. He turned and came face to face with Doctor Blake. He dropped Gerard's arm with a growl and flashed his eyes at her. 

Doctor Blake ducked her head, but Derek couldn't pick up a scent reaction from her. 

"Jennifer," Kate said. "I take it everything at the hospital is going according to our plans?"

Doctor Blake nodded. "Yes," she said. "All of the test subjects reacted to the poison within the expected parameters." 

"What about Derek's dear little sister?" 

"The subject is in a precarious state. If she's not removed from the toxic environment, her death is predicted to occur between seven and ten days from now, making her one of the first subjects to go through the entire eighteen month cycle of poisoning." 

"But why?" 

Doctor Blake looked at him, her expression somber and determined, but not in the least bit remorseful. "I'm sorry, Derek, but sometimes sacrifices are necessary." 

"Sacrifices?" Derek felt his eyes flare, burning red as he glared at Doctor Blake. "My sister is not a sacrifice!"

#

Before Derek could do something stupid, like escalate from growling and scowling to actually attacking people, Stiles put a hand on his arm and pulled Derek's attention back from Doctor Blake. When Derek looked at him, it was with a mixture of hope, guilt, relief and desperation, and Stiles squeezed his arm to show Derek that he wasn't going anywhere.

"What do you think, Big Guy?" he asked, the code phrase rolling off his tongue lightly. "Do we have enough to have all three of them arrested, and a bunch of other people besides?" 

Derek blinked at the code phrase, then smirked, flashing a hint of fang that hadn't retracted yet. "I guess so," he said. 

"Let's see," Stiles said. "Kate admitted to framing me for treason. She and Gerard told us they'd been working on their little killer surprise for a while and that Victoria was involved as well. Not to mention that Kate confessed to killing your family and implied she'd killed others. Oh, and she just tried to blackmail you - again - with the life of your sister." Stiles smiled, leaning forward to look around Derek. "And Doctor Blake - so good of you to be here. That's going to make it easier for the officers to arrest you all at once. I'm sure they're very interested in what you've been doing to a whole hospital full of patients."

"Who will no doubt be pressing charges as well," Derek said. "The press is going to eat this up."

Doctor Blake frowned at him and opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Gerard slammed his hands down on Kate's desk. 

"ENOUGH!" he bellowed. "You," he said to Derek, "stop talking in my presence. I've always thought you filth to be exemplary poor conversationalists. And you," he said to Stiles, "I don't know where you think you're going that you can tell any of this to the authorities or the press, but I can assure you it won't be happening." 

Kate, who had followed the exchange in silence until then, fixed her angry eyes on Stiles. "You're right, Dad. Enough is enough." Her eyes flickered over to Doctor Blake. "Jennifer, if you'd be so good to call your head nurse? I think Derek needs to be taught a lesson."

Stiles let his hand fall from Derek's arm, but only to put his arm on the chair's armrest, brushing his fingers against the outside of Derek's thigh. Derek looked down at him and nodded, his features entirely human. By now, the waiting police forces were probably at the gates, trying to get onto Kate's property. If everyone had gone according to plan at the hospital, Melissa was already on her way down the highway with Cora. They only had to hold on for a few more minutes. 

Doctor Blake shifted uncomfortably and hesitated for a long moment before stepping around Derek and Gerard to pick up the phone on Kate's desk. Stiles watched her dial and wondered if she was showing a sudden onset of conscience or if she was simply unsure because he and Derek weren't hiding their confidence in their own plan. 

"Kali? It's me," Doctor Blake said once the phone was picked up on the other end. "I need you to go and deal with that patient we were talking about earlier." Doctor Blake listened for a few moments and then paled while Derek sighed in relief. "Gone?" Doctor Blake asked, a hint of hysteria in her voice. "What do you mean, _gone_ , Kali? The girl can barely walk on her own and she's sedated and near comatose - how can she be gone?!" There was another slight pause, then Doctor Blake's eyes flashed dangerously. "Well, _find her_!" 

"What's going on?" Kate asked.

Doctor Blake slammed the phone down and looked up at Derek and Stiles. "What did you do?"

Derek shrugged, the smirk never leaving his lips. 

Stiles smiled. Cora was safe. His dad, Scott and Allison and a bunch of police officers were on their way to arrest Kate, Gerard and Doctor Blake. There were no more secrets between him and Derek. It was only a matter of time until he was a free man again and could go back to his life.

Kate stood up and grabbed Doctor Blake's arm. "I asked what's the hell is going--"

The muffled sound of an explosion interrupted her.

#

Allison watched the cops around them swarm out and head for the gate and the side entrance. On the other side of the property, more officers were doing the same thing. Next to her, Scott and the sheriff nearly vibrated with pent-up emotion. She felt the need to go after Kate and Gerard, to make sure that Stiles was okay and that Kate and Gerard got what they deserved.

Her family used to be the stuff of nightmares. The Argents made a profit out of hunting werewolves and they were so successful at it that they were still one of the richest families on the planet even generations after their family had turned away from hunting. Only now they were using their wealth to keep up the alliance with the werewolf packs. They poured more money into werewolf-human relations than most governments, with scholarship programs and internship offers for everyone with the right grades, not just the ones with the right family background or genetics. AWI's health and family benefits put most other companies to shame, recognizing same-sex and other non-heterosexual relationships as well as other non-traditional family groups like packs. To find out that her grandfather and her aunt - worse, her own _mother_ \- were involved in a conspiracy that threatened everything the Argent name stood for these days made Allison seethe with rage. 

It had taken her a long time to read through her family chronicles and come to terms with the fact that her ancestors had done horrible things in the name of some perverted form of justice. She took comfort in the fact that they had never tried to cover it up or sweep that part of their family history under the rug like so many families did. Instead, the Argents had owned up to their past and made it their mission to rise above it, to strive to be better, to _do_ better. That's what her father had taught her. To be an Argent meant to do better. To show strength by showing kindness and to accept people not for _what_ they were but _who_ they were. To protect those who could not protect themselves.

AWI was the market leader in the defense industry, producing armored vehicles, body armor and Lycan-friendly weaponry that helped make the world a safer place. That was the family Allison was proud of - not the twisted, disgusting ideology Kate and Gerard were talking about. 

Looking out of the open van doors, Allison could see two officers in SWAT gear mount an explosive device on Kate's heavy front gates. "Right," she said. "I don't know about you two, but I'm going in." She took off her purse and pulled her small, compact crossbow out of it, followed by a small leather quiver that held twelve crossbow bolts and could be attached to her belt. 

Allison stalked over to the van's doors and jumped down. Up ahead, one of the SWAT officers bellowed _fire in the hole_ and Allison tensed, feeling strangely satisfied to see the gate blown off its hinges, the iron arrow in the middle broken in two. Before the smoke had cleared, the officers started moving, running towards the house.

Allison looked back at Scott and the sheriff. "Well? You two coming?" 

Scott and the sheriff exchanged a look, then the sheriff nodded and Scott shrugged. The sheriff drew his gun and Scott flicked his hands, his claws pushing through his fingertips.

#

Cora was still mostly unconscious when they reached Melissa's car. She'd parked in the corner, next to a large SUV that towered over her smaller, more compact sedan. It made sure that anyone passing wouldn't see her help Cora, still in her hospital gown and clearly unresponsive, into her personal car. Shifting Cora from the wheelchair into the backseat wasn't easy, but Melissa had years of experience moving unconscious people. She made sure Cora was sitting comfortably and then folded up the wheelchair, putting it in the trunk of her car.

Melissa grabbed the bag from the trunk and opened it, taking out a large t-shirt and a blanket. She slipped the robe off Cora's shoulders and pulled the t-shirt over her head, fighting a little to get Cora's arms through the sleeves. Tucking the blanket around Cora's legs, Melissa took a step back and tried to see Cora with a stranger's eyes. She looked like a sick and tired young woman taking a nap in the backseat. The sight wasn't suspicious enough to get much attention during the drive over to Beacon Hills. 

Melissa nodded. _The trick to getting away with anything is to do it with conviction._

She carefully buckled Cora in and then closed the back door, stowing the bag away in the trunk. 

As she walked around the car to get into the driver's seat, movement at the parking garage exit drew her eye. Melissa half-hid behind the SUV, squinting to make out what was going on against the backdrop of sunlight streaming in from outside. At the exit, two armed guards stepped up to the car trying to leave the garage, checking the passengers before letting it pass. Frowning, Melissa scanned the rest of the parking garage. At the other end, near the elevators, four more armed guards appeared and started down the line of cars, peering into and under every car they passed. 

"Well," Melissa muttered, "that could be a problem."

#

The explosion was muted, the noise of it dampened by the thick walls, but Stiles felt it down to his bones, shaking the ground and making his heartbeat quicken.

Kate cursed and angrily punched a handful of keys on her computer keyboard. The screen flickered to life and Kate's curses got more explicit. Gerard reached over and turned the screen, and Stiles caught a glimpse of a bunch of wannabe-soldiers facing off with men in SWAT gear, some retuning fire while others surrendered and got detained by the police. 

"Kate, this is your mess," Gerard said, nodding at Stiles and Derek. "You deal with this." 

Kate narrowed her eyes at her dad as he threw open the door and Stiles blinked in surprise. With the door open, he could hear the gunfire he could only see on the monitor before. No wonder the explosion sounded like it was far away or underwater and not right outside the house. 

Derek flinched as soon as the door opened, but he growled and lunged at Gerard to stop him from getting away. Stiles couldn't see what Gerard did, but Derek yelped and stumbled back with a roar, holding his side. It was enough for Gerard to leave the room and hurry down the hallway. Stiles was torn - should he hurry after Gerard or check on Derek? Before he could make a decision, however, Kate made the choice for him. She stepped around her desk and swung her arm down. The telescopic baton in her hand extended and then flashed white with an electric crackle as she pushed a button and swung it at Derek. 

Derek jerked back, fully wolfed out. He growled, but before he had a chance to attack, Kate brought her baton up again and pressed it to Derek's side, shocking him again and again until he fell down, his claws tearing five large gouges into her desk on the way down. Behind Stiles, Doctor Blake squeaked and pushed herself against the wall, scrambling to get away from a furious Kate and an even more furious Derek. 

Derek roared and kicked out, catching Kate in the knee. 

Kate stumbled and fell forward. Unfortunately, Derek's body stopped her fall. She caught herself and rammed her baton into the side of his neck, releasing another charge of electricity against Derek's skin. Stiles watched the scene unfold in horror, too shocked to move for a moment, until Derek's eyes rolled back and his head hit the floor with a dull thud. 

Kate raised her arm again and this time, Stiles moved. He caught Kate's arm and yanked her back, but he didn't expect Kate to go with the motion, using his own momentum to slam him into the heavy desk. Stiles gasped as the air left his lungs, his hands scrambling over the surface of the desk, desperate to find something he could use as a weapon. His fingers closed around a large square object - he couldn't see it, but it was heavy enough that it would hurt when he swung it at Kate's face. 

He whirled around, but Kate was ready for him. One hand at his throat, the other holding her baton to his ribs, she glared at him, barely out of breath and extremely pissed off. "Drop it," she instructed, nudging his side with the baton - hard - when he didn't immediately comply. 

Stiles dropped the object, flinching at the loud clattering sound it made when it hit the desk and then bounced off, landing on the floor. 

Kate nodded towards the wall Doctor Blake was cowering against. "Move it." 

Stiles slowly moved back. Every time he swallowed, he felt Kate's fingernails dig into the back of his neck. 

"Jen," Kate said when they reached the wall, "twist that lamp to the left."

Doctor Blake's hand shook as she touched the lamp. Stiles wondered, briefly, why she was suddenly freaking out. The influx of police and her imminent arrest? The sudden violence? But judging by the fearful glances she shot Derek, even incapacitated and writhing in pain on the floor, it had more to do with having a pissed off alpha in close proximity. Stiles could sympathize. Only not, he reminded himself, because she was in on it with Kate and slowly poisoned people who went to her for help and for what? Money? 

Stiles' glare was lost under a shout of surprise as the wall behind his back suddenly moved, making him stumble. If not for Kate's iron grip, he would have fallen backwards. 

Stiles glanced over his shoulder into total blackness. A secret passage, he realized with horror. One that likely ended up somewhere outside the house, allowing Kate to slip past the police. 

Kate tried to push him through the newly opened doorway, but Stiles struggled, hooking his fingers around the edge of the wall to keep himself in the room. Kate let go of him and pushed him into the wall instead, moving around him to stand behind him, hooking an arm around his neck. Her arm tightened around his neck until Stiles started seeing black spots in front of his eyes. "You can either walk with me, or I'll drag your unconscious ass with me, I don't care either way, but you and I, _Stiles-y_ , we're leaving here together," she said, her lips grazing the shell of his ear.

Stiles shivered and he looked down at Derek who was slowly pushing himself up on his knees and then his feet. He wobbled slightly, but with every passing second his stance became more steady and his gaze sharper. 

Kate noticed it as well. She transferred the baton to her other hand, holding it too close to Stiles' head for his comfort, and then dug her fingers into Stiles' wrist, making him let go of the wall with a pained shout. 

Derek's head jerked up and he roared. 

The last thing Stiles saw before the hidden doorway closed and they were plunged into darkness were Derek's glowing alpha red eyes.

#

Still crouched behind the SUV, Melissa nervously tapped her fingers, her mind racing. Eventually, the guards would make their way around to the corner her car was parked and they'd find her and Cora. She could try racing out of the parking garage, but the protection of parking so far away from the entrance was a disadvantage in this case. The several hundred feet of space between her and the exit would give the guards enough time to pull their guns. Her car wasn't bulletproof - she couldn't help Cora if they were shot dead.

If for some reason they escaped the bullets, there was nothing to guarantee that they would actually get out of the parking garage unscathed. Melissa had no idea what the barrier at the exit was made of, but real life wasn't a movie. What was to say her car could crash through it and keep working? 

They couldn't go back up and exit the hospital on foot. The guards would see and stop them. Hiding was a good plan in theory, but the guards were checking in and under the cars, so they couldn't just hide somewhere and wait it out. Unless… 

Determined, Melissa opened the trunk and took out the bag and the wheelchair, putting them in the backseat. 

Cora's head rolled to the side and she blinked, looking around the dim interior of the car in confusion. 

Melissa cursed quietly and darted around the car. "Cora? Are you awake? Can you hear me?" she whispered. 

Cora blinked again, but didn't respond to Melissa's questions. Melissa straightened and peered through the darkened windows of the SUV next to her. The guards were advancing steadily, checking every car they passed. They were running out of time. 

Getting Cora out of the car posed more trouble than getting her in had. Cora, scared and disoriented, struggled weakly in her grip. 

"Shhh," Melissa said, closing the door as quietly as she could. "Please, Cora, I'm trying to help you." 

Cora turned her head away from Melissa and made a noise that wasn't quite a word but that got her displeasure across in no uncertain terms. Melissa winced even as she put her hand over Cora's mouth and dragged her over to the trunk. "I'm really, really sorry, Cora. I know this is scary and you don't know me, but your brother sent me. Please believe me, I'm just trying to help you. The people who did this to you, they're after us. We have to hide, so please, _please_ stop struggling." 

Cora blinked up at her and stilled, letting herself sag backwards into the trunk. Melissa scrambled in after her, making sure Cora didn't hit her head on anything. 

"Do you believe me? Right, of course, you're a werewolf, you can probably hear that I'm not lying," Melissa whispered, reaching up to close the trunk. "Which is a good thing, really, considering I'm getting into an enclosed space with you." 

Melissa had always through the trunk was roomy - big enough for a week's worth of groceries or her husband's entire fishing and camping gear - but being squeezed in with a girl barely out of her teens made her aware just how small the space was. She and Cora ended up lying face to face, pressed up against each other awkwardly with their knees knocking against each other and their elbows digging into their sides. 

"Sorry, again, by the way. I don't usually get this close to my patients. Or anyone who isn't my husband," she said with a bout of nervous laughter. 

"Shh," Cora said so quietly that Melissa almost didn't hear it. "Shh," she repeated. "They're coming." 

Outside, heavy footsteps approached the car.

Melissa held her breath.

#

As soon as his head cleared, Derek zeroed in on Stiles and the way Kate was forcing him into a dark space behind the wall. When the wall slid back into place, cutting him off from Stiles, Derek growled and drove his fists into the wall, trying to follow. The shielding on the room meant that despite the far open door he couldn't hear Stiles' heartbeat any more. In fact, he couldn't catch a single trace of Stiles. His hits were useless though. While he managed to strip away the wood paneling, he soon hit a solid metal sheet. Punching it with all of his strength didn't even dent it, and the few kicks he aimed at it did nothing more than jar his leg.

With an angry growl, Derek turned to his only other option: Doctor Blake. She stumbled back into the wall when Derek's gaze focused on her, her eyes flitting to the open doorway, but Derek was faster. He pinned her to the wall by her shoulders, hearing her heart flutter fearfully at the sight of his bloody knuckles. The small lacerations had healed even before he stopped punching the wall, but the blood was still coating his hands. 

"Where did she take him? How do I open that door?" 

"I-I don't know," Doctor Blake stammered. "She said to twist that lamp." 

Derek glanced at the wall-mounted lamp, still twisted to the left. With a glare, he shifted his grip so that his lower arm pressed against Doctor Blake's throat and turned the lamp back into its original position. Only when he twisted it to trigger the door mechanism, nothing happened. 

Derek snarled in her face, nostrils flaring when the scent of fear filled the room. She was deathly afraid of him. Derek would have put her willingness to experiment on her own patients down to a disproportionately strong fear of werewolves, but he could smell another wolf all over her. 

"What did you do to Cora? How can I help her?" 

Doctor Blake opened her mouth, but before she could answer, the room was invaded by four men in SWAT gear. Derek flinched when all of them pointed their weapons at him and shouted a version of 'let her go'. He didn't have to try and explain anything to them, however, because another group entered the room not even ten seconds later. 

"That man is Derek Hale," the oldest of the three said. He worn civilian clothes, but had a sheriff's star pinned to his breast pocket. Before meeting him briefly at the restaurant to pick up the fake surveillance equipment, the last time Derek had seen the man was in Beacon Hills. But even after nearly twenty years, Derek had instantly recognized the man with the kind but sad eyes who'd given him and his sisters the news that their family was gone.

"Sheriff Stilinski," Derek said.

"He's one of ours," Stilinski said. "It's her you want." 

The SWAT team leader nodded and signaled his team. They spread around the room and repositioned their guns to point at Doctor Blake instead. When two of them moved in to arrest her, Derek tightened his hold on her.

"Wait," he growled. "Answer my question first: how do we help Cora?" 

Doctor Blake's scent still held a strong edge of fear, but it was muted by anger now. Derek didn't know why she was angry. Because her plan had failed? Because she was about to go to jail? Because Kate left her to face the police alone? 

"If you help us now, it'll only help you later on in court," Stilinski said. "A little cooperation can go a long way." He paused, tilting his head to the side. "And the fact that Cora would just be one more death we could lay at your feet and make your sentence that much longer means you probably want to help us save her. If only for your own sake." 

Derek felt the exact moment Doctor Blake gave in. The open door let in too much ambient noise to hear her small sigh, but he could feel her chest heave, the tension leaving her shoulders. Her gaze dropped before settling on Stilinski, only occasionally shooting him glances out of the corner of her eye. 

"Well?" Stilinski asked. "What did you do to Derek's sister?" 

"We used the scholarship students as test subjects," Doctor Blake said. "They all have AWI provided dorms and the rooms' ventilation units were retrofitted with a slow-working wolfsbane diffuser to expose them at a pre-determined schedule." 

"Wolfsbane?" the guy who came in with Stilinski said. He was a werewolf - if Derek hadn't already smelled it on him, the extended claws would have given him away. "So it's wolfsbane poisoning? Can she heal from it? Do we need a specific wolfsbane flower to neutralize the poison?" 

Doctor Blake's eyes drifted over to the man, and Derek felt her rising heartbeat at the sight of the man's claws. "W-we diffused the wolfsbane with some mistletoe, to make the symptoms less typical, but essentially it's wolfsbane poisoning, yes. With as small amounts as we used, the wolfsbane takes a long time to build up to toxic levels. After about eighteen months, the subjects reach a point where the enhanced healing capacity isn't enough to clear all of it and it starts to fester, building up while the body's immune system - which has been weakened by the constant exposure - is unable to fight it off. She'll need a clean environment and a lot of rest. It'll take a long time, but she should recover eventually."

"Great," Stilinski said. "Get her out of here." 

Derek stepped back and let the two SWAT members take Doctor Blake's arms, fitting restraints around her wrists. 

Stilinski pointed at one of the remaining two men. "You make sure to get that information to my wife." 

The man nodded. With a sharp "yes, sir" he headed down the corridor, his teammate following on his heels. 

"Now," Stilinski said, turning to Derek, "where's my son?" 

Derek growled and punched the wall again. For a second, he'd almost managed to forget that Kate took Stiles and he couldn't find him. "Kate took him," he pressed out. "There's a hidden door here and I can't get it open!"

#

After a few seconds of heavy silence only broken by the footsteps outside the car, the tension in Melissa's muscles started to become painful. She was developing a cramp in her thigh and her shoulders ached with the strain of keeping an unnatural position for too long. At the same time, she couldn't move. She could hardly breathe, her breath coming in short, flat bursts Melissa knew didn't help her stay calm.

The footsteps stopped right next to them. Cora's arm moved against Melissa's hip and Melissa jumped.

"Sorry," she whispered, barely audible to herself. "I don't do well with dark, enclosed spaces." 

In response, Cora's eyes started glowing a warm amber, two pinpricks of light that helped Melissa calm her heart. Her hand found Cora's and she squeezed it thankfully. She barely reacted when the man outside opened the car doors. 

"Hey, Steve," the man said. "This one's unlocked. And look at the stuff in the backseat." 

A few moments later, another one of the doors was opened. "Weird," Steve agreed. "Let's take a closer look." 

Cora's hand tightened around hers and the glow of her eyes intensified. 

"Stop it," Melissa whispered. "You can't--"

The rest of Melissa's sentence was drowned in sudden noise from the outside, shouting and running and loud bursts of gunfire. Cora flinched, her eyes going dark as she whined and squirmed. 

"Aw, crap," Melissa muttered. "What is it? Are you hurt?" 

"Loud," Cora said, shifting closer to Melissa. 

"Okay, your senses are probably out of whack because of the poisoning," Melissa said. "Chemical imbalances can cause all kinds of physiological responses, but we can do something about that. Come here. Focus on my heartbeat." 

She pulled Cora closer, cradling her head. One of Cora's ears was pressed to Melissa's chest, the other was blocked by her hands. 

Cora slowly calmed down, matching her breathing to Melissa's. It helped Melissa to keep her own breathing steady, knowing that Cora depended on it, too. 

Outside the car, the fire fights continued. One shot shattered a window close to them, making Melissa's heart jump. But the shot turned out to be a stray one - at least there were no further shots or a follow-up by any of the shooters. When the gunfire finally stopped, Melissa breathed a sigh of relief until she remembered that she had no way of knowing which side had won. She didn't even know who the other side was - she hoped it was the police, but it could have anyone. 

_Well,_ Melissa amended. Probably not anyone. The chances were good that the cavalry - in the form of the police - had arrived. 

"It's okay," Cora said, pulling away from her. "We can come out - the police are in control now." 

This time, Melissa's sigh of relief was deeper and more heartfelt. She had another brief moment of panic when she couldn't get the trunk open in the dark, but after a few calming breaths her hands bumped into the release mechanism and she popped the trunk, blinking at the lights.

#

Kate hit the lights as soon as the door closed and Stiles blinked in surprise. Instead of a small crawlspace between the walls or an old spider-infested secret passage, the space behind the wall looked like a small room. There was a folded up camp bed in one corner, two armchairs and a table next to it. The walls were steel gray - and probably made out of actual steel.

Stiles toyed with the idea of stalling Kate by dragging his feet, but the steep and narrow winding staircase in the corner of the small room was made of steel. The thought of willingly going anywhere with Kate made Stiles' skin crawl, but taking a tumble down the metal steps wouldn't help. Reluctantly, Stiles climbed down the steps when Kate pushed, prodding his back with the baton. 

"Go on," she said. "If you try anything, I'll stun you and watch you break your pretty little head on the way down." 

"Wow, yeah, that's an awesome plan," Stiles groused. "I'm the hostage here, right? Getting me killed isn't going to work in your favor at all, Kate." 

Kate's baton crackled with electricity, making Stiles jump down to the next step before Kate could get any ideas. She smirked and Stiles felt like he'd just lost a battle in this war.

They made it down to the bottom of the staircase eventually. Stiles hadn't counted his steps, but the amount of turns the staircase had made most likely put them in the basement somewhere. The cold, somewhat clammy feel of the air seemed to support that theory. The light from the room above faintly filtered through the steps, but it wasn't enough to make out anything beyond a couple of feet. Stiles shivered and cursed Derek for ripping off several of the button on his plaid shirt earlier. He buttoned up the remaining buttons and crossed his arms. 

Kate, in her leather jacket, didn't seem to feel the cold. She shot him a warning look and then hit another switch, flooding the room with light. 

Stiles blinked against the light and then blinked again in surprise at their surroundings. The room was large, with white walls and a white tiled floor. Several doors led off of it. The room itself seemed to be a sort of control center. There was a bank of monitors on the far wall. Kate headed over and punched a command into the keyboard. The row of monitors flickered to life, showing several different rooms and hallways. One of the monitors even showed an outside view, capturing part of the gardens and the driveway. 

Kate cursed and Stiles focused on the screens. Some of the screens showed police officers swarming Kate's house. Some were searching through drawers and boxes, others were marching Kate's foot soldiers outside, their hands cuffed behind their backs. The view of the study showed Derek, his dad, Scott and Allison. Stiles drew in a shaky breath. He only had to hold on until the others came after him. Derek wouldn't let anything happen to him, and neither would his dad, Scott or Allison. If anyone could find them, it was Allison. She was bound to know about the secret basement - at least Stiles hoped that she did. 

Stiles' gaze slid past Kate to the second row of monitors. These showed no human activity. The white walls and floors indicated that they were part of the secret basement and Stiles shivered just looking at them. One of the rooms held what looked like a dentist's chair. Several of them looked completely bare - no furniture, no windows - and Stiles realized with a start that they were cells. He sent Kate a horrified look, but she was studying the monitors with a scowl on her face. 

Stiles didn't want know what the other rooms in the secret basement looked like, but he couldn't stop his eyes from sliding back to the monitors. Two rooms looked like hospital rooms, complete with a ton of medical equipment and hospital beds. Stiles didn't even want to think about what kind of medical procedures needed to be performed in a hidden basement that included cells and a level of security that would put most prisons to shame. 

"Damn it!" Kate cursed, slapping her palm against the counter. 

Stiles followed her gaze and snorted. The monitor that held Kate's attention showed the basement garage. It was practically overrun by cops. "How is that escape going for you then?" he asked before he could stop himself. 

Kate turned around and in one smooth motion punched him in the jaw, hitting nearly the same spot Derek had hit earlier. The hit made Stiles' head ring and he stumbled back, feeling weak in the knees. 

Kate grabbed the front of his shirt and shoved him back into the wall, delivering a slap that stung his pride more than it did his face. 

"Shut up," she hissed. "You think I'm playing games here?" She raised her arm and brought down the baton. 

Stiles flinched when it hit the wall inches from his head, sparks flying when Kate released a burst of electricity. He felt the shock of it, traveling through the metal, but the charge was low enough that it didn't do him major harm. 

"Now, you can shut up and do as I say and I _might_ let you live, or you can keep this up and find out how much I meant it when I said I'd drag your half-dead ass with me if I had to," Kate said. She had her entire body pressed to Stiles', her face only inches away.

Stiles turned his head, not wanting to feel Kate's breath on his face any more. Provoking Kate was a bad move. He knew it, but he couldn't always stop himself from blurting out his thoughts. He'd have to try harder though - Kate was pissed and he kept forgetting that she was a cold-blooded killer underneath her successful businesswoman cover. 

"Come on, we're going this way," Kate said, giving him a shove towards one of the doors. 

Stiles walked over to it quietly and reached for the door when Kate motioned for him to open it. Behind the door were no white walls. Instead, a dirt floor and dark brick walls greeted them. The air felt even colder and clammier and it smelled like damp earth. Along the walls, mounted on the tunnel sides in regular intervals, were muted emergency lights. They cast an eerie green glow over the tunnel, making Stiles swallow uneasily. 

Kate stepped into the escape tunnel behind him, prodding his back to get him moving. Stiles walked a little slower than necessary, putting a slight limp into his step to appease Kate and hopefully stop her from hitting him again. He just hoped that it was enough for the cavalry to catch up to them.

#

"Did you try the lever?" Allison asked, nodding to the lamp in question. It felt strange, being this close to Derek Hale, knowing that her aunt had killed nearly his entire family - his pack. But if Derek blamed her for any of it, he didn't show it.

Derek nodded. "It doesn't work. The door doesn't open." 

"She must have locked it from the inside," Allison said. "There's a room behind this wall - kind of a panic room. You can lock it from the inside and it won't open again unless you put in the code." 

"Wait, so Stiles is trapped in there with your aunt?" Scott asked, giving the wall a considering look. 

Allison followed his gaze and looked down at splintered wood panels and fist-sized smears of blood on the metal. 

"You can't punch through it," Derek said. "I already tried." 

"Obviously," she muttered. Louder, she said, "and they're not trapped in there. There's a whole network of escape routes." 

"Where are the other exits?" the sheriff asked. "Can we head them off somewhere?"

Allison thought for a moment. "She could have gone around to the other side of this floor, but I think it's more likely that they went down into the basement. It's been a while since I've been down there, but Kate has a security station there where she would be able see where everyone is and then plan her escape accordingly." 

"Well, right now, the cops are all over this place," the sheriff said, his expression tight with worry and fear. 

"If she can't get out inside the house," Allison said, "she's most likely taking the escape tunnel. It runs under the property and comes out near a small back gate in the wall." 

The sheriff clapped his hands. "Well, what are you waiting for? Or is it going to be locked? Do we need a key to get in?" 

Allison shook her head. "It's locked, yes, but I know the code - if it hasn't been changed." 

"But what if they're going another way?" Scott asked. "What if we all head out to the back gate and Kate goes out the front?" 

Allison shrugged. "There is a way to get into the hidden part of the basement from the parking garage."

"Huh," Scott said, narrowing his eyes. "We could--"

Derek cleared his throat and held up a hand, cutting Scott off. They all turned to look at him. "I already have a plan. Here's what we're going to do…"

#

Once out of the trunk, Melissa didn't let Cora out of her sight. The girl looked both better and worse. She was waking up from the sedatives she'd been given, but the poison was still ravaging her body, making Cora pale and nauseous. Shifting - even just the eyes - had taken its toll on Cora, her renewed energies nearly depleted. She sank weakly into the wheelchair Melissa unfolded and didn't complain once when Melissa took the blanket and laid it over her legs, tucking it in around the girl.

The lieutenant in charge of the police operation at the hospital approached them before Melissa could ask to see the person in charge. 

"Are you Melissa Stilinski?" 

"McCall-Stilinski," Melissa corrected. "Yes, I am." 

"Good. I'm Lieutenant Banks," he introduced himself. "I've been told you know what to do with patients that have been poisoned with a wolfsbane-mistletoe mixture." 

"Is that what it is?" Melissa asked, running through a list of symptoms in her head. It all fit - the mistletoe would keep the patients docile and mitigate some of the more obvious wolfsbane poison symptoms, like the black bile. 

"All right," Melissa said. "Call ahead to Beacon Hills Memorial hospital, tell them to get the quarantine floor ready. Any Lycan patient in this hospital needs to be moved out of here as soon as possible. They need to be stripped, decontaminated and brought to a safe environment. We can't use the ambulances here - they might be contaminated with the poison as well. Anyone who doesn't need special equipment or constant treatment will have to take a car. It's against procedure, but in this case the circumstances won't allow us to follow proper procedure and speed is a factor. We need to get these people away from here as soon as we can to minimize exposure." 

"What about the ones who need to be transported in an ambulance?" 

"Call around, get ambulances from outlying hospitals. Beacon Hills Memorial can send up theirs," Melissa said. "But I have a feeling that a lot of the patients will show a definite improvement as soon as they're away from here. But they shouldn't go back home until after a decontamination team has inspected their houses - there could be poison sources there."

Lieutenant Banks nodded and sent one of his men to make the necessary phone calls. He glanced at Melissa. "Will you be here to supervise the move?" 

Melissa looked down at Cora who nodded slowly. 

"All right," Melissa said. "But after that I'm taking Cora home." 

Lieutenant Banks frowned. "Won't she need to go to the hospital, too?" 

"Lycan physiology takes care of most illnesses and injuries before they have a chance to become serious enough to require a hospital stay at all," Melissa said. "Unless there's poison or magic involved, you don't really find many long-term Lycan patients at a hospital. I'm pretty sure that most of the patients here will be able to go home after the weekend. They'll still be fighting the poison, of course, and depending on their exposure they could be struggling with it for months to come. But most of them will be able to recover at home." 

Lieutenant Banks followed Melissa and Cora into the elevator and pushed the button for the seventh floor. After the near-battlefield of the parking garage with its shot-up cars and bleeding guards, the normality of the intensive care ward made Melissa blink. She didn't like bringing Cora back to the floor - there were bound to be contaminated materials everywhere - but she couldn't bear to leave Cora waiting somewhere. 

The nurses' station was deserted. Lieutenant Banks shrugged. "We arrested all nurses and doctors who were working with Lycan patients," he explained. "Until we can establish which ones were in on it and which ones weren't, we can't let any of them near the patients." 

"True," Melissa said. "It'll be ten more minutes until the first ambulances get here. We can't use the decon facilities here - the chances that they are compromised are low, but not completely unthinkable - so we'll have to--"

An alarm cut her off and Melissa zeroed in on the alerts flashing on the monitor. "Get me a doctor. Any doctor. Now!" she yelled, already running down the corridor towards Cora's old room. The girl in the other bed, hooked up to both her own and Cora's equipment, was straining to breathe, gasping and convulsing slightly even though she was still unconscious. Being the intensive care ward, the emergency equipment was extensive and easily reachable. Melissa was still preparing the tools the doctor would need when the girl stopped breathing and flatlined. 

Cursing, Melissa dropped what she was doing. She climbed on the bed and started chest compressions, cursing louder when the soft underground made the job harder than it already was. Outside the room, shouting and running footsteps sounded and Melissa breathed a sigh of relief. Two doctors and several nurses burst into the room and Melissa called out the status. One of the nurses offered to switch and Melissa gladly accepted, feeling the strain on her arms and shoulders. 

"You'll have to push harder than usual," Melissa warned. "The bed is way too soft - but she's Lycan, she can take it if you crack a few more ribs."

"Lycan?" one of the doctor's asked. "That part of whatever's going on?" 

"Yeah," Melissa replied. "Doctor Blake was poisoning people." 

Several of the nurses exchanged looks and one of them unhooked the IV bag and exchanged it for another. She gave the half-empty bag to Melissa. "Here. Who knows what's in there - mine is fresh from pediatrics downstairs. Doctor Blake has never been down there as far as I remember." 

"We have a pulse," one of the nurses said and the entire crew sighed in relief. 

"Okay," the second doctor said. "Let's stabilize her and get her ready for transport. She needs to be on one of the first ambulances out." 

"Cassie, Ben, you two stay up here until all of the patients here are taken care of," the first doctor said. "I'll check the others on this floor, but first I'm gonna find someone to yell at for leaving the intensive care ward without any personnel. Who arrests all of the nurses and doesn't call for anyone to replace them?"

He walked off, still grumbling under his breath. Melissa felt a strong urge to follow him and yell right alongside him, but her hands were still shaking from the adrenaline and the exertion, and she really wanted to get back to Cora and take her home.

#

After only a few steps, Stiles lost all sense of time or distance. He didn't know if they'd walked a few hundred feet or several miles. The tunnel seemed to stretch on forever. The creepy green emergency lights illuminated only a few feet of the tunnel in either direction and they were placed far enough apart that he and Kate had to walk through a few steps of total darkness before they emerged in another circle of green light.

The worst part of it was that there were other lights, the kind often found in factories or warehouses: bare industrial light bulbs inside of metal cages that protected them from being accidentally smashed. Stiles had no idea why Kate didn't turn on the regular lights. Maybe she didn't need them. Maybe they weren't hooked up to the electricity grid. 

Or maybe she just wanted to freak Stiles out - if so, it was working. 

What little he could see drove his mind into overdrive. The suspicious black stains on the walls that appeared occasionally turned to blood stains in his head even though they could be nothing more than splatters of mud. The twig that snapped under his feet turned into the bones of one of Kate's prior victims. He could practically hear the voices of the dead, haunting the tunnel and--

Voices. Stiles could hear voices. Kate's muttered curse and the way she grabbed his shirt collar at the back of his neck told Stiles that she could hear them, too. 

The cavalry was coming. Stiles just had to hold on for a little bit longer.

#

Allison showed Stilinski and the other man - Scott - the basement entrance and then waved Derek over to the parking garage. They exited through the garage doors, Derek's senses picking up the staggering amount of activity on the grounds. All over the property, officers were arresting men, securing the area and searching Kate's possessions. Several of them gave him and Allison a closer look, but didn't try to intercept them. A few of the men and woman looked like they recognized them, so Derek figured they had been briefed on their involvement.

"This is it," Allison said, stopping on a fairly nondescript bit of lawn. A few steps away, the large wall surrounding the property stood. It was covered in ivy. To the casual observer it looked like a regular overgrown wall, but Derek could see where the ivy had been carefully trimmed on top so it didn't grow too wildly and make the barbed wire on top of the wall useless. Half-hidden behind the ivy was an wrought-iron door, the metal struts of it shot through with ivy vines. 

Allison looked down at the ground. She had introduced herself earlier, after Derek had laid out his plan. 

"Allison Argent," she'd said, a defiant tilt to her head, chin raised. 

"Derek Hale," he'd replied. "Nice to meet you." 

Once Allison was reassured that he wouldn't attack her for her aunt's crimes, she'd relaxed in his presence. Truthfully, Derek had felt some resentment, but it wasn't rooted in anything but the fact that Allison's scent resembled Kate's quite a bit, right down to the gun oil and the coconut shampoo. Seeing Allison and Scott be quietly affectionate as they wished each other good luck and promised Stiles' dad that they'd bring their brother back helped him push the resentment aside and focus on the task at hand. Allison was here to help them rescue Stiles, not because she wanted to help Kate. He could hear the truth in her words as she promised to get Stiles back.

"Damn," Allison cursed. "There's a trapdoor under here, but I didn't think to bring a spate or a saw or anything. Usually, I'd come from the other side - the hydraulics in the door are strong enough to just punch through the earth and the grass. I didn't even think about the fact that we'd need to do some digging first." 

She was already several steps away, heading back to the house, when Derek called out for her. 

"What? We can't get to the door from here!" 

Derek raised his eyebrows and help up his clawed hands. "Yes, we can!" 

Using his claws, he cut through the turf and tore out chunks of grass. The earth underneath was loose, but wet, sticky and heavy. 

Allison knelt down and started clearing the dirt away with her hands. "Here, concentrate on this area. There's a handle here," she said, wiping her hands on her jeans. 

It didn't take Derek long to find the handle. Once he had a good grip on it, he planted his feet on either side of the trapdoor and pulled, hearing the low hiss of the hydraulics as he forced the door up. 

"Okay, that's far enough," Allison said. 

Derek let go slowly, waiting to see if the door would keep its half-open position or fall shut again. When it didn't move, he nodded and joined Allison on the other side. A ladder was welded into place right at the edge of the hole, leading down into an endless darkness. 

Allison didn't hesitate to swing her legs over the side and climb down. Derek waited until she'd cleared the immediate area before following her, reaching the bottom a few seconds after her. The darkness beyond the light streaming in from above wasn't as absolute as he'd first assumed. Emergency lighting provided more than enough light for him to see the tunnel clearly. Allison however squinted and pulled a flashlight out of her pocket. 

Derek put his hand over hers, stopping her from turning it on. "The light would travel too far. We'd lose our advantage." 

Allison nodded and stuffed the flashlight back into her bag. "The tunnel circles around under the house," she whispered. "There's another exit outside the property near the road, but that's where the police have put their base, so I figured she'd head this way." 

"Good call," Derek said. "We'll have her trapped in no time." 

Allison pointed down to the left. "That way will take us back to the house. Let's go!" 

Together they jogged down the tunnel on silent feet, Allison easily keeping pace with him even in the near darkness.

#

"Move it!" Kate snarled. She dug her fingers into his shoulder, pressing down painfully on his collarbone.

Stiles yelped and twisted out of her grip. He didn't try to defy Kate on purpose - the move had been automatic; his body's response to pain was try and to get away from it. But Kate's eyes flashed dangerously and she raised her baton threateningly. 

Stiles stepped back, making the decision to run before his conscious mind caught up to him. 

"Stiles!" 

Stiles' ears perked up. Scott was coming to his rescue. That was the final impulse. Stiles turned and ran back down the tunnel, towards Scott's voice. Kate could get away for all he cared, but she wouldn't get him. 

Except Kate didn't even try to get away. She threw her baton after him with an enraged shout. It bounced off his shoulder and landed harmlessly on the floor. 

Stiles could see Scott and his dad, running towards him. They disappeared into the darkness every few seconds and then reappeared in the green light. 

The gunshot came as a surprise and Stiles stumbled into the wall, barely catching himself before he smacked his head against the stones. Scott howled and covered his ears, sinking down to his knees. The report of the gun sounded louder than Stiles remembered it from the few times he accompanied his dad to the shooting range, learning about gun safety. Of course he'd been wearing ear protectors at the range while his ears were unprotected here and the enclosed tunnel walls echoed the noise back at them several times before it traveled up the tunnel. 

It wasn't until Scott raised his head and sniffed, his crimson eyes worriedly raking over Stiles' body, that Stiles realized he'd been grazed by the bullet. It tore through his upper arm, etching a deep one inch grove through his flesh. The bullet was stuck in the mortar between two bricks, coated in blood that looked black in the green light. A small piece of his plaid shirt was caught between the wall and the bullet, wetly clinging to the bricks. 

"Nobody move," Kate said, her voice tight with suppressed rage, "or the next bullet goes through his head." 

A few steps ahead of Stiles, his dad froze in his tracks, his arms half raised. Scott was still kneeling on the ground, looking up at Stiles. 

Stiles, feeling uneasy with an armed-and-willing-to-shoot Kate at his back, slowly - very slowly - turned around.

#

The shot and the following roar rang out almost as soon as they started down the tunnel.

Allison pressed herself to the tunnel wall, crossbow raised. Derek pushed through the pain in his ears and crouched down, scanning the tunnel. The shooter wasn't anywhere near them however. She - because it had to be Kate; the sheriff firing his gun wouldn't provoke Scott to roar like that - was ahead of them, further down the tunnel. The echoing noise of the gunshot and the ringing in Derek's ears made it impossible to try and check up on Stiles, and Derek felt it like an itch he couldn't scratch. He needed to get to Stiles. 

Now.

Derek caught Allison's eyes and pointed down the tunnel. 

She nodded. Keeping her crossbow at the ready, Allison started running. Derek matched her pace. She was surprisingly fast for a human and Derek was grateful that she ran full out and didn't try to hold back. They ran for a minute and half before Derek heard Stiles' voice. Something in his mind settled and part of the tension in him bled away at the confirmation that Stiles was alive. 

He put a hand on Allison's arm and slowed them down, putting his finger over his lips to tell her to be quiet. 

Allison nodded, breathing heavily but quietly through her mouth. 

Slowly, they made their way around a slight bend in the tunnel.

#

Staring down the barrel of a gun, Stiles discovered, never became any less terrifying than the first time. It didn't help that Kate's hand was absolutely steady, aiming the gun straight between his eyes. Stiles had seen her test a few of AWI's developments - Kate was an excellent shot. Despite the distance between them, she wouldn't miss.

"Kate," he said, carefully raising his hands in a placating gesture, "this has to stop. It's over. That wire Derek gave you upstairs? That was just the decoy. The real transmitters were still working." 

"We heard the whole thing, Kate," his dad said from behind him. "We have it all on record now."

Kate narrowed her eyes and glared at his dad, but her gun hand never wavered or pointed away from Stiles. 

"Look around, Kate," Stiles tried again. "Look at what's happening. The police are all over this place. It's already too big to contain it. All you can do now is damage control."

Kate thumbed a switch on the side of her gun and a laser sight flickered to life. Stiles couldn't technically feel it, but he imagined the red laser point as a burning circle in the middle of his forehead. 

"You know," she said conversationally, tilting her head to the side, "you're right, Stiles. Damage control." 

"Kate…"

"No, no, it's perfect. I kill the three of you, and this time tomorrow I'll be sipping drinks on a beach in South America." 

"The entire property is surrounded," his dad reminded her. "You can't get out of here."

Kate smirked. "Sure I can." 

Stiles caught a glimpse of movement behind Kate. It took every ounce of self control not to react once he recognized Derek and Allison creeping along the tunnel, backs pressed to the wall. 

"Kate!" he said urgently, waiting until all of her attention was on him. "I know it doesn't look like it, but you don't have to do this. If you hand over your gun and come quietly, it'll count in your favor in court. We'll all put in a good word," he assured her, pointedly ignoring Scott's small sound of protest. "Just, _please_ put down the gun and stop all this." 

Behind Kate, Allison crouched down and aimed her crossbow while Derek crossed to the other side of the tunnel in front of her, preparing to attack. 

Stiles didn't know what it was that alerted Kate. It could have been his eyes, indicating that there was something going on behind her. Maybe she's simply heard a noise or subconsciously felt the change in air pressure as Derek came up behind her. Either way, Kate frowned and glanced behind her, letting out an enraged shout when she caught sight of Allison and Derek and realized that she was trapped between them. 

With a furious scowl on her face, Kate whipped back around to Stiles. He could see her finger tightening on the trigger moments before another booming gunshot echoed through the tunnel and all hell broke loose.

#

DA Culver purposefully strode down the perfectly maintained lawn, meeting the officers in charge on the large, sprawling terrace that opened the back of the house up to the large backyard.

"Gentlemen," she greeted. "Status report?" 

"Property is secure. No sign of Gerard Argent yet, but Stilinski and Hale are pursuing Kate Argent and the hostage. They've gone off the radar, ma'am," SWAT leader Robinson said, sounding disgruntled. "I really think that my men--"

"Robinson," she interrupted. "I understand your position and in any other situation I would support it, but nothing about this case has gone the way we wanted it so far. You've got men at all the exits - they will resurface sooner or later. For now I'm willing to give Hale and Sheriff Stilinski the benefit of the doubt and trust that they can handle it."

Robinson gave her a frustrated look but nodded. "My men have taken everyone else here into custody and turned things over to the local police for evidence collection and processing." 

"Yeah," Captain Ryder said. "My guys are still going over the house - it's gonna take us days to get everything squared away. Looks like there's illegal weapons, anti-Lycan propaganda, some contraband, stashes of money that we can't say for sure was legally obtained or not."

"Reports have come in from stations all over town," Lieutenant Williams added. "All of the people Kate Argent named on the tape are in custody, including her personal assistant, her sister-in-law and the doctor doing the experiments and poisoning." He shuddered a little, his eyes flashing golden as he thought about Doctor Blake. DA Culver shared that particular opinion, feeling glad that the woman was safely in custody. 

"The hospital?" she asked. 

"Banks reports that all of the patients have been or will shortly be transferred to quarantine at Beacon Hills Memorial where their statuses can be assessed independently from whatever was diagnosed at BCUH. They have a ton of people in custody and are currently trying to figure out who was involved and who was an unknowing bystander," Williams said. 

"Good." Culver nodded. "I want--"

"Sirs!" on the officers called, jogging over to their little group. He was a little out of breath when he reached them and nodded at Culver. "Ma'am." 

"Yes, Rawlins?" 

"We got Gerard Argent. He was using some kind of tunnel to escape and ran straight into the officers posted outside the gate," Rawlins said, wiping some sweat off his brow. "But something's going down in that tunnel. We heard gunfire and growling, but the access point Argent used is locked and he refused to open it." 

Robinson and Ryder exchange a look and split into different direction, Robinson yelling into his radio that he wanted his men to comb the grounds and find a way into that tunnel, Ryder calling his troupes to find hidden passages inside the house. 

DA Culver sighed. "Rawlins, take me to Argent. I want to hear what he has to say. Williams--"

"Help with the search," Williams said, nodding. 

"Thanks," she said. "And be careful. I have a feeling that tunnel is where we'll find Kate Argent, Stiles Stilinski and the sheriff." 

She watched Williams head out into the backyard and squared her shoulders, nodding at Rawlins to take her to Gerard Argent. She had a long day ahead of her - better strike while the iron was hot.

#

For a few moments, Stiles wasn't sure whether he'd been hit or not. He felt the breath get knocked out of his lungs as he was pressed into the wall, the bricks cold and rough against his back. But there was a warmth along his front, a warm and soft barrier between him and Kate. He blinked, looking straight into Derek's glowing red eyes. Derek must have wolfed out and dashed past Kate, pulling him out of the way of that bullet and guarding him with his own body.

More gunshots and a loud growl made Derek twitch against Stiles, but his grip on Stiles' shoulders was strong enough that Stiles couldn't do more than catch a glimpse of Scott as he bared his fangs at Kate and jumped, claws extended. Stiles' ears were still ringing by the time Kate pulled the trigger once more and came up empty, the gun useless. Derek's grip eased up and he turned to face the threat, keeping his arm extended to stop Stiles from running towards the fight taking place a few steps away. 

Scott - his sweet, wouldn't-hurt-a-fly best friend Scott - was slashing at Kate, tearing strips of red into her flesh and ripping her clothes. Allison, still crouched a few feet away, released the bolt in her crossbow, a sad but resolved look on her face when it hit the target, embedding itself in Kate's arm. Kate screamed and whirled around, throwing her uninjured arm out towards Allison. No--

Stiles blinked, catching a flash of silver flying through the air. Throwing a small dagger at Allison! 

Scott saw the move and the dagger before Stiles did and intercepted the blade inches from Allison's chest, breathing a shaky sigh of relief as he and Allison looked at each other with wide eyes. Then a grim determination settled in Allison's eyes and she pushed Scott aside, setting her bag down on the ground. 

Unlike Derek or Scott, Allison and Kate were both human. Without claws attached to their fingers, they couldn't kill each other with a single swipe of their hands at the other's throat or with a well-placed bite. Kate's injury should have given Allison a slight advantage, but the crossbow bolt still sticking out of her upper arm didn't seem to bother Kate much. Neither Allison nor Kate were holding back, making the fight a lot more brutal than Stiles had expected. Kate seemed to be caught in a mindless rage, countering Allison's attack with a forceful punch to Allison's face, making Stiles wince in sympathy. His jaw was a giant sore area already - he'd be showing off a huge bruise for the next week or so. Now he and Allison could wear matching bruises. 

Allison stumbled back under the force of the punch and used her leg to push off from the wall, launching herself at her aunt. Kate was ready to block Allison's punch, but Allison pulled her fist back before it could make an impact and instead rammed her knee into Kate's side, jamming her elbow into Kate's kidney when she doubled over. 

"Give it up, Aunt Kate. You're not getting out of this one," Allison said, spitting out a bit of blood. 

Kate snarled and charged at Allison, but Allison simply stepped aside and let Scott catch Kate. He wrapped his arms around her and held on, wincing a few times when her boots hit his shins. 

"Um, a little help here?" Scott said, tilting his head back to keep it out of Kate's range. 

Derek sent a short look at Stiles over his shoulder and walked over to them, taking Kate's wrists. He nodded at Scott to let go, forcing Kate down onto the ground before putting his knee at Kate's back, keeping her immobile not matter how much she struggled. 

Stiles' dad brushed past them with a pair of handcuffs, securing Kate's hands behind her back while Derek held her. Derek had just dragged Kate to her feet when the sound of running footsteps echoed through the tunnel, shortly followed by flashlights and at least a dozen men in uniform. 

Stiles watched as Derek handed Kate over to the cops and she was led away spitting and snarling, struggling against them every step of the way. 

Stiles sighed in relief, his limbs suddenly feeling too heavy for him as the pent-up tension of several days on the run left his body all at once. It was over. Kate was arrested and the cops had her confession on tape.

He was a free man. He could go home. Suddenly dizzy, Stiles leaned against the wall, for once enjoying the coldness of the stones. 

A shadow fell across him and Stiles opened his eyes, seeing Derek's dark outline loom over him. He stared up at Derek, head tilted back against the cool bricks, waiting. 

Derek's hands were warm and gentle on his face, carefully cupping his cheeks and brushing a thumb over the darkening bruise on his jaw. Stiles moaned when Derek took some of the pain away, making his skin tingle. Stiles' hand found the front of Derek's shirt and he tugged on it, bringing Derek a step closer. He tilted his head up, sighing into Derek's mouth as their lips met and Derek's warmth seemed to seep into his bones, warming him from the inside out.

Derek growled when someone else stepped up to them and Stiles pulled back, frowning when he recognized his dad. He punched Derek's arm - lightly, since he didn't want to break his fingers. "That's my dad, asshole," he said fondly, rolling his eyes at Derek. 

Derek gave him a one-shouldered shrug and stepped aside, letting Stiles hug his dad. 

Breathing in the familiar leather/old spice/apple scent of his dad, Stiles felt himself relax further. If he kept it up, he'd fall asleep on his feet. 

His dad pulled back and opened his mouth, then frowned and blurted out, "Stiles, you're bleeding."

"Huh?" Stiles asked, taking in the four faces that suddenly locked onto him with obvious worry; Allison and Scott's matching expressions of alarm, his dad's tight frown and Derek's - frankly adorable - gruff worry, complete with a low-grade growl and some eye flashing. "Oh, yeah. It's just a graze."

"Let's get you out of here," his dad said. 

The others nodded as one, and Stiles let Derek pull him into an upright position. He wrapped his arm around Derek's back, frowning when he felt a sticky wetness there. When he looked at his hand, his eyes widened in alarm. 

"Dude! Forget about this tiny graze in my arm," he said, twisting until he could see Derek's back. "You're like a living, breathing, bullet-ridden Swiss cheese."

"It's fine, Stiles," Derek said, trying to get him moving again by pulling on his arm. 

"Fine? _FINE?_ Your entire back is riddled with bullets!" Stiles shouted. 

"Yeah," Derek said, infuriatingly calm. "And that's fine. I'm an alpha, Stiles, and they were regular bullets. Most of them have healed over already, so don't worry." 

Stiles exchanged a look with his dad, seeing his freaked out expression mirrored on his dad's face.

"Derek, son," his dad said, "what about the bullets?" 

Derek winced. "I'm gonna have to have them removed." 

"Oh my god, " Stiles moaned, not sure if he should be horrified at the thought of someone cutting all of those bullets out of Derek or relieved because while it might hurt, it wouldn't _kill_ him. "Wait! Scott - she didn't shoot you, did she?" 

Scott shrugged, holding up his arm. The sleeve of his jacket was torn and smeared with blood. "But it went right through. It's healed up by now." 

"Man," Stiles breathed. "Allison, no offense, but I hope your aunt rots away in jail _forever_."

Allison rubbed her aching jaw and sighed ruefully. "Can't argue with that," she said, linking her arm with his. 

Together, they made their way out of the tunnel.

**Epilogue:**

Stiles felt the adrenaline high fading with every step he took. It had kept him going in the cold, dark tunnel, but unfortunately wasn't enough to tide him over until he was freshly showered and lying in his own bed. His hands started shaking by the time they hit the parking garage and Derek had to put his arm around Stiles' waist to help him move in a straight line - much to Stiles' relief, he walked them straight to one of the ambulances sitting in the driveway, idly flashing their lights. The ambulances stood in a tight cluster. Several cops and some of Kate's men were being patched up. Stiles could see one of them getting his leg splinted before he was lifted into an ambulance that immediately headed for the gates, leaving only two. The rest of the driveway was filled up with police cruisers, police vans and a few cars that Stiles thought were also police vehicles, going by the flashing lights attached to various parts of them. 

Outside the gates an army of news crews stood guard, hounding anyone who left the property with questions. Stiles shuddered and thought that maybe hitching a ride with an ambulance wasn't such a bad idea after all. He sank down on the back of the ambulance with a sigh, leaning his head against the cool metal of the door. Most of his wounds were minor, but there were a lot of them. Going by the slightly fuzzy vision in his left eye and the pounding headache, the worst of his injuries was a possible concussion. His dad and his - boyfriend? - promptly ganged up on him and demanded that he get his head checked out - Stiles was outraged, mostly because he wasn't stupid enough not to have his injuries treated. The danger was over, he was a free man, and Kate was behind bars. There was no reason to tough it out any longer. In fact, the sooner someone handed him a double strength Tylenol, the better. 

"Hey," he said, glancing at the EMT rooting through his case, "do you have painkillers?" 

The EMT shook his head. "His body would metabolize it too fast." 

Stiles blinked up at Derek who was suddenly shirtless. 

Derek crossed his arms and turned to face Stiles, showing his back to the EMT. Armed with a scalpel and an uneasy look on his face, the man started the thankless task of cutting the bullets out of Derek's back. Stiles was glad he couldn't see it, getting only the occasional tightening of Derek's eyes as an indicator of what was going on behind his back. 

Stiles was tempted to close his eyes and lean against Derek, but he had a possible concussion and Derek was getting his back cut up. Even with as much experience as Derek had, having someone slice open his back with a sharp implement had to be straining his control.

Stiles blinked again. There was something he'd been meaning to say. Something-- "Painkillers! I didn't mean for him, man. For me. I'm in need of some serious painkillers. My head is killing me." 

"Unfortunately," the EMT said from behind Derek's back, "I can't give you anything until we've assessed your status. That means a CT scan at least." 

"But whyyyy?" Stiles whined, leaning around Derek to shoot the EMT an imploring look. 

"Until we know what's going on inside your head, we just can't risk it, sorry." He shrugged and turned back to Derek's back. 

Stiles sighed, slumping back against the door. Derek frowned down at him and then reached out to cup the side of Stiles' face, lightly running his thumb over the large bruise on his jaw. 

"What are you--ooh." Stiles sighed in relief as Derek took on some of his pain, black veins snaking up his arms until they vanished from sight. "Thank you," he murmured, giving Derek a grateful smile. His headache was still there, but much more manageable. His vision remained fuzzy in his left eye, but Stiles could blame the setting sun that was cutting across the lawn, casting long shadows and glinting off windscreens and other reflective surfaces. 

Derek shifted so that he blocked the sun from Stiles' face, ignoring the protests of the EMT behind him. He gave Stiles a noticeably somber look. 

"What?" Stiles asked. "What's wrong?" 

"You knew about the--" 

Stiles groaned. "Not this again. Yes, I knew. I'm a genius - it didn't take much to figure it out. Your money problems, your miraculous growly entrance and your overall timing suggested you weren't just passing by. Talking to my dad just made it official - the only people who would hire someone to keep me safe are Scott - who doesn't have that kind of money -, my dad - who also doesn't have that kind of money and who straight out told me he hadn't hired you -, and Allison - who _does_ have that kind of money, but who'd never trust a stranger to do a job she'd rather do herself anyway. So yeah, I was pretty sure you weren't hired to protect me." Derek was too far away to touch without moving, but Stiles was sure he would just topple over if he tried to stand up without help. So he sighed deeply and smiled wider. "It's okay, Derek. I understand."

"You understand? I was going to kill you and you _understand_?"

The EMT made an alarmed sound, but they ignored him. Stiles shrugged, wincing when the movement pulled at the wound in his arm. "Dude, I once chained Scott to a radiator so he wouldn't chew my face off."

Derek shook his head. "This is different."

"It's close enough. Why are you arguing with me? I forgive you. This is the part where you kiss me and we ride off into the sunset together. And look! We got the sunset part covered already. So romantic, right?"

Derek gave him an incredulous look, like he wasn't sure which part he should comment on first, but his posture relaxed slightly. "I--"

"Stiles! Derek!" 

"Dad!" Stiles said happily. "Where have you been? And where are Scott and Allison?" 

"Scott and Allison are giving a preliminary statement," his dad said. "And so was I." He gestured to the woman who had accompanied him. "This is DA Culver. You have her to thank for all this," he added, waving his hand around to encompass all the activity around them. 

"Mr Stilinski," DA Culver said, nodding. "Lieutenant Hale." 

"Hi," Stiles said. "Thanks for listening to my dad." 

DA Culver smiled. "He had a few convincing arguments." 

"Didn't hurt that Gerard Argent was on her radar already," his dad put in. 

DA Culver's smile turned a little shrewd. "That too," she admitted. "I guess I can cross him off my list. His daughter, too. Thank you for that, Mr Stilinski, and for everything else you've done. You'll be happy to know that all charges against you have already been dropped. You're free to go, as long as you're coming in for a statement tomorrow." 

"Sure," Stiles said. "Yeah, of course." 

"After a trip to the hospital and a good night's sleep," his dad said, shooting Stiles a warning look. 

Stiles bristled - he was thirty years old and his phase of teenage self-destruction was long over. But at the same time the obvious concern in his dad's - and Derek's - eyes warmed him. He decided to let it slide, just this once. 

"Now, Lieutenant Hale," DA Culver started, and Stiles watched as Derek practically snapped to attention, hissing when the motion jostled the EMT still working on his back, no doubt cutting into some part that didn't even have a bullet in it. Stiles winced in sympathy, automatically reaching out a hand to comfort Derek. Derek took his hand, but his gaze remained fixed on the DA. 

"I understand that your leave was for three days," DA Culver said. "You were due on base for a flight out back to your post five days ago. I also understand that you were involved in the--"

"--rescue," Stiles interrupted, his voice firm. "Derek rescued me and anything else is totally irrelevant." 

Derek gave him an unhappy look. "Stiles..."

"What? I'll swear on a stack of bibles that you and I were totally in on this from the start and that you only took Kate's contract on my life in order to protect me better."

DA Culver raised her eyebrows at Stiles, but she smiled like she could appreciate the sentiment. "Well, I guess that solves one of your problems," she told Derek. "Luckily for you, I have the solution for the other one. I talked to your CO. Your AWOL status for the last five days has been amended to MIA. Now that you're back on the radar, you'll be on medical leave for the next 48 hours, starting now. You'll be expected back on base in two days, at sunset." 

Derek gave her a surprised look and Stiles squeezed his hand. 

"Thank you, ma'am," Derek said. Stiles was sure that he would have saluted, too, if not for the EMT working on his back and Stiles clinging to his hand.

"No, Lieutenant Hale," DA Culver replied. "Thank _you_. You just helped us take down the people involved in what could be the biggest conspiracy of modern times."

DA Culver nodded at them and then took her leave, his dad following her for a few steps, talking quietly. 

Stiles slapped Derek's arm. "Dude! AWOL? Why didn't you tell me?" 

"And then what? Did you want me to go back to base and let you do this on your own?" Derek scoffed. "You would have been killed!" 

Stiles rolled his eyes, but he couldn't really argue with that. Derek had saved his life multiple times while Stiles' own plans - while awesome - hadn't worked all that well. 

Stiles' dad stepped back up to them and Stiles grinned up at him. "Thanks for helping out with Derek's AWOL status, Dad." 

His dad shrugged. "You said he was helping." 

"He was," Stiles said. 

"Good," his dad said, fixing Derek with a stern look. "I'd hate to have wasted that favor DA Culver owed me on anyone who didn't deserve it." 

"Thank you, sir," Derek said. He dropped Stiles' hand so he could shake his dad's. 

"Yeah, well," his dad said. "You saved my son's life. That's worth a lot to me. And I understand that you were doing this for your sister - we all do things for family that we wouldn't even consider otherwise." His dad gave Derek a hard look. "But if I hear about you even thinking about breaking the law again, I'll haul your ass to jail faster than Stiles can say _but Dad_."

Derek nodded solemnly. "Yes, sir. I would never. I was just-- Cora is all I have left. I'm not--"

"Save it," his dad said, not unkindly. "I'll trust Stiles' judgment where you're concerned, and if it turns out he was wrong, _then_ you and I can have this conversation." He pulled his cell phone out, swiping his thumb over the screen. "Now, talking about your sister - I have someone wanting to speak to you." 

Derek took the phone, his gaze flickering between Stiles and his dad as he slowly lifted it to his ear. "Hello?" 

Stiles could hear the faint sounds of a female voice on the other end and he knew without Derek's delighted exclamation of "Cora!" that it had to be Derek's sister. Derek glanced over his shoulder at the EMT and when the man nodded, he moved away a few feet. Stiles wasn't sure if he wanted privacy for his call or if he was trying to give him and his dad the chance to speak without him listening in. 

Stiles' dad sighed and put his hand on Stiles' shoulder, squeezing lightly. "Are you really sure about this guy?" 

Stiles laughed at the open dismay on his dad's face, sure that it was merely the circumstances of their meeting and not Derek himself that made his dad uneasy. 

"Yeah, pretty sure," he said, remembering the way Derek's lips felt against his skin and the vulnerable look in his eyes as he told Stiles about his past. Ultimately, only time could tell if they would make this relationship between them last, but Stiles wasn't about to give up because their start was less than traditional. Besides, it would make for a kick-ass story to tell the grandkids at family reunions. 

Derek wandered back over and held the cell phone out to his dad. "It's your wife," he said. 

Stiles had to grin at the bounce in his dad's step as he walked away, bringing the phone up to his ear. His dad walked past Scott and Allison, who were talking to a cop near the front entrance, and briefly slapped Scott's shoulder in passing and squeezed Allison's arm in comfort. For a long time after his mom died, Stiles had been sure his dad would never find love again. When his and Scott's matchmaking attempts finally paid off and their parents started dating, no one had celebrated harder than them. The best part about their parents dating was that it made him and Scott actual brothers - a sentiment their parents probably didn't share. But Stiles loved seeing his dad treat Scott like a second son and Allison more like a daughter than a future daughter-in-law. 

"So," Stiles said, turning his focus back to Derek. "I have this place in town. It's just a small apartment. Like, minuscule. My bedroom probably used to be a closet before the landlord got the idea to rent it out as a separate room. I'm not even sure your shoulders will fit through the door, but you can go through sideways, I suppose. Oh, and we'll need to stop for stuff on the way. Like food and a CT scan and lube and don't you make that face at me, Scott McCall," Stile said, glaring at Scott over Derek's shoulder. "That's what you get for listening in on other people's conversations. Now move it along, this is grown up talk. Nothing for your sensitive little wolfy ears, my friend." 

Scott rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, deliberately turning away. 

"What was I saying? CT scan and lube and food and -- oh my god, the food I had at my place is probably one mystical ingredient away from becoming the Ooze that turns my cockroaches into giant crime-fighting cockroaches with their own underground lair and a cute crime-fighting journalist on their tail." 

Derek's expression turned from fond amusement into a frown. "You have cockroaches?" 

"That's what you got from that? That I have cockroaches? Not the Teenage Mutant Ninja Cockroaches bit I was trying to pitch?" 

"I don't know how to respond to that," Derek said. "And what's worse, I don't even think that's the concussion talking. I'm gonna have to get used to talk about giant cockroaches and mutant ooze, aren't I?" He shook his head in exasperation, but didn't look too put out at the thought of getting used to Stiles' winding and oftentimes strange thought processes. "Thank god I like them weird," Derek added in a quiet mutter.

Stiles narrowed his eyes. "I'm sorry, what was that?" he asked in a tone that suggested Derek had better drop it - even if the sparkle in his eyes revealed he was only teasing. "I couldn't hear you over the noise of the approaching giant mutant cockroaches."

"Okay, okay," Derek said. He took a step closer and reached for Stiles' hands, taking a bit more of the lingering pain from Stiles. 

Stiles hummed at the warmth that replaced the pain and tangled his fingers with Derek's. "Stop distracting me," he murmured. "I was in the middle of inviting you back to my place. Was that working at all?" 

"It was," Derek said, running his thumb over Stiles' knuckles. "It really was." He sighed.

"But?" Stiles prompted. 

"You have a concussion that needs to be checked out, Cora is in Beacon Hills and your step-mom just …invited us to come and stay with them." 

"Invited?" Stiles asked. 

"Well, it was phrased as an invitation, but I'm a soldier. I recognize an order when I hear it, and I was definitely ordered to bring you home after you got checked out." 

Stiles nodded. "Sounds like Melissa." 

"She also said that she'd be happy to have Cora stay with them while she recovered and regained her strength," Derek added, sounding a little uncertain about it. 

"That sounds even more like her," Stiles said. "When we were in high school, she took in a kid whose dad had been killed. Cora would be a fool not to accept." 

Derek nodded and Stiles squeezed his hands. "Hey, can you do me a favor?" 

"Sure," Derek said. Then his eyes narrowed. "What kind of favor?"

Stiles grinned, more than just a little pleased that Derek knew him well enough already not to agree to unspecified favors until he knew the stakes. "I'm exhausted and sore and my head hurts and in a few minutes, that EMT who's been eyeing us is going to come up here and whisk me away to the hospital where I'll be prodded and poked until they give me some pain meds, tell me to take it easy and to come back if I feel any worse. It's gonna take _hours_ and I won't see you at all during that time," he said. "Which means I'll need kisses. To tide me over." 

Derek snorted in amusement. "Is that your sound medical opinion, Doctor Stilinski?" 

"Absolutely, Nurse Hale," Stiles said. "Now get here and kiss it better."

Derek smirked, his mouth quirking up on one side. "As you wish," he said, kissing Stiles before he had a chance to gasp and marvel at the fact that his boyfriend - his muscle-packed, soldier boy boyfriend - successfully made a pop culture reference.

**The End.**

[](https://www.mediafire.com/?c1omhssd4edqllr)   
[Download the ebook](https://www.mediafire.com/?c1omhssd4edqllr)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! ♥ I hope you enjoyed the story! 
> 
> Please don't forget to give my artists some love, too! They did amazing work and deserve to be heaped with praise! 
> 
> [Marple-Juice's art](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3442031) | [sterekotp's art](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3268298) | [playlist @ 8tracks](http://8tracks.com/seraphina_snape/relationships-that-start-under-intense-circumstances-playlist)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [(ART) for "Relationships That Start Under Intense Circumstances"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3268298) by [Winchesterek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winchesterek/pseuds/Winchesterek)
  * [[Art] Relationships that Start under Intense Circumstances](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3442031) by [Marple_Juice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marple_Juice/pseuds/Marple_Juice)




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